It'll Be Okay
by TheOneAndOnly1993
Summary: After six months in captivity, Finn is rescued by his friends. But he's not the Finn they remember. He's broken, scarred and ill-trusting of everyone. Now, it is up to his loved ones to bring him back into the light. Contains brief PBxMarceline and heavy friendshipping with everyone else.
1. Prologue

**It'll Be Okay**

_an 'Adventure Time' fic by TheOneAndOnly1993_

* * *

**Prologue**

"Careful now," Funn whispered. "Careful little buddy...I ain't gonna hurt'cha!"

His heart almost leapt from his scarred, malnourished bosom when his hand lashed out. He sometimes imagined it like a python, sneaking through the mossy stone floor and cracking out like a whip at the last second. His fingers wrapped around the furry prize, yellow nails digging into its soft, writhing flesh. Funn almost cried when he caught it; even without a thumb, he still managed to catch a meal. When Funn bit into its vulnerable underbelly, the rat squealed and screamed, pawing frantically at his freshly-blooded cheeks. The meat was so sweet, so juicy. He attacked the red ruin of the rat's belly once more. Its struggle ceased that time, giving Funn a fleeting moment of content. His chewing made gross, sloppy sounds that resonated throughout the moist dungeon.

Then he heard the harmony of harsh voices and the scuffle of footsteps down the hall from where he was being kept.

Funn froze like a deer in the headlights, terrified to even think of chewing the warm mess of flesh and fur in his mouth. _No, _he thought, _no, Glob, no. It can't be Tuesday already. Master was just here last night! Or was that three days ago? A month? _Down in the dark where it was always dark and rainy, it was hard to tell. Funn looked down at the rat in his hand and stifled a scream. His belly screamed hunger, but his phantom ear cried the loudest and he flung it across the room, praying to whoever was still just in this cruel world that Master didn't look in the corner. _If he sees me with food I didn't earn, he'll take my other ear! Oh Glob Glob Glob, why? It took me so long to catch that rat... _Tears salted with dirt ran down his grimy face. Funn chewed with what remained of his teeth and swallowed the rat meat.

If Master was in a good mood today, thought Funn, then he may only be checking up to see if he remembered what he is. _I'm Funn. I'm nothing but. That is all I am and that is all I'll ever be,_ he recited in his head, as he had a hundred times before. There's nothing more Master can take away from him; he already took a sledgehammer to his teeth, what more is there? Unless he decided to take Funn's tongue as well. _No no no. Come on, Funn. Master wouldn't do that, silly! He loves to hear me beg! _And you can't be fun without a tongue. Everybody knows that.

Funn tongued the morsels of stringy flesh that got caught in between his yellowed teeth and holes where others had once been. The whole process was an agony, but Funn was so starved he could not bring himself to stop.

Down the hall behind his own dungeon door, the sound of another crashed open. _"He's not it here!" _said a male.

_"Well check the others!" _cried the female, opening another herself. _"He HAS to be down here!" _

_They're coming to get me. _Funn's scrawny figure shuddered, and he dragged himself across the dungeon floor on limbs thin as twigs, iron chain scraping noisily against the stone from his ankle. The pain was real and raw, as the gash on the back of his ankle screamed and spat fresh red in protest. Funn wedged himself tight into the corner, atop a pile of hay that he made his bed. Funn still recalled his first days here, back when he was known as another boy, a fearless hero long forgotten. He recalled the hay pile smelling musty. But Master made him grateful for all of the little things in life, and soon the hay's must became his own.

Some of Master's jailers had taken to calling Funn "Dung", on account of his smell. It was meant to be a joke, he knew, and laughed with them when it came up. Funn learned to love even the jailers; sometimes they'd hit him when he laughed and other times they wouldn't, so it was like a little game that he found exhilarating.

The footsteps shuffled louder. More joined further down the hall from where they came. It was a march, like a small army made up of six pairs of feet. Funn couldn't even begin to ponder who Master was looking for; as far as he knew, Master kept no other entertainers. There was one, on the first day he arrived here. He screamed all through the night, Funn shuddered to recall, even through the thick stone walls. Then the screaming stopped in the morning, and it was only his ever since.

_"Princess," _one of the new voices said, a male that struck as a little slow, _"we've rounded up all the bad guys." _

_"Good, good." _The female they called "Princess" sounded distant, opening another door and sighing in despair.

_"No sign of Finn the Human," _he continued. _"We think he may have escaped," _said another._  
_

_"If we don't find him here," _said the gruff male from before, _"then I hope that he did."_

Funn wanted to scream. He knew what Master was doing; he did this before. In the early weeks of Funn's reconditioning, Master staged a farce of a rescue mission to give him false hope. This was back when Funn was still considered a man and known by a different, more beloved name. He got as far as the front gate before an arrow took him in the shoulder, and as punishment Funn was stabbed twice, once with a needle to stop the wound from festering, and again with something, far, far worse. After that, Funn was no more than a sack of bony meat that was fed only twice a week and lived to entertain. But the question remained: why is Master repeating games?

The footsteps shuffled closer to Funn's lair. _"This is the last set of doors, princess,"_ said the male. He sounded hopeful. "_Let's keep our fingers crossed!" _

_No! _Funn scrambled his callused heels against the straw and stone floor as he tried to push himself harder into the cold, damp corner, into the shadows. _Pass me by pass me by. Please just leave me be and pass me by! _Overgrown hair fell over his eyes in the struggle, hair that was more like the hay he slept on than anything else.

The footsteps advanced and stopped when it seemed they were at their loudest. The lock tumbled and rumbled. Funn squeaked and he wiped his bloodied hands on the only article of clothing he still had: his blue shorts, now fringed and torn and reeking of mildew and blood and other bodily fluids. _Go away! Please! _He made the effort to hide in his straw pile, yet it was only deep enough to conceal the nub of his right arm, its flower long-plucked by the Master himself when he first arrived here.

The sound of the door slamming open was the most terrible sound he had ever heard. When the torchlight streamed in and hit him full in the face, Funn let out a shriek. It was like staring into the sun, and his effort to cover up the brilliance with his one hand proved futile. Funn wanted to tear his eyes out, the torture pained him so. Even Master wouldn't be this cruel, he thought.

"Please," he whimpered, "I'll do anything. I'll entertain your guests again; I'll even let them do that thing you did to me when I-I tried to escape! Just _please _oh please put that light out!"

"Oh my Gob!" The intruder scampered toward him, and the light was brought closer. "Finn! Bro, is that you!?"

"NO! Don't say that too loud, or Master will pull my fingernails! I'm Funn! Funn!"

"Bro, it's me! Your buddy Jake! You're safe now!" Funn clenched his eyes shut and looked away. He heard the intruder sniffle and knew, just knew, that he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he wrapped around him something warm and soft. A blanket. And he felt two arms wrap around him. "You're okay buddy. You're okay."

_No I'm not. I'm not okay. I'm Funn. And being Funn is never okay. _

Funn felt something wet plop down on his blanket. And then another. The little intruder was trembling, Funn realized, who then lifted his head from his arm and shouted out, "Princess! Princess! I found him! HE'S IN HERE!" His voice made it seem like he was crying. Sobbing, actually. Funn didn't dare to look, lest there was a knife right in front of his face ready to poke his eyes out.

No knife came, but instead another pair of feet entered his dungeon. "FINN!" It was the female. She ran towards Funn and his "savior", and pulled the two of them into an embrace. "Oh Finn, we've found you. You're safe you're safe you're safe and we found you..." The female's strong, commanding demeanor from before seemed like an entirely separate entity now as she started to weep quietly like a small child. Her scent was the most pleasant thing Funn smelled in ages. It was sweet, like bubblegum.

And yet, he wouldn't stop wondering how long this farce will continue until another one of Master's goons would cut a toe off, or pull another tooth.

* * *

**Dark stuff you guys. I'm pretty keen on making this more than a oneshot, but think of it as me testing the waters. Do you guys think I should bother continuing this? Let me know!**


	2. Wake Up

** Funn**

Whatever game Master was playing, he was definitely pulling all the stops to make it convincing.

The entire ordeal had left Funn regrettably weary, and he passed out almost on the spot after his "saviors" blinded him with light from the sun. When he awoke, possibly hours later, he found himself in a room that was much like the medical ward of the Candy Castle, right down to its gaudy tiled floor and the yellow brick walls. Sunlight filled the room through the windows lining the ceiling, and for an hour Funn counted the dust motes floating about the place as the steady _boop _of the heart rate monitor served as a backdrop to the silence. His one arm had an IV attached, feeding his body water. It all filled him with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, which made him sad once he remembered that Master will be entering the room any minute now with another visitor in need of Funn's entertainment; perhaps it would be a resident of the Candy Kingdom, he presumed logically.

_I'm Funn, and nothing but. That is all I'll ever be. _

Not only did Master go through the impressive effort of recreating a memory from the other boy's life, back when he was a respectable denizen of Ooo before his reconditioning, but he scrubbed away the weeks spent building up Funn's infamous musk and his even breath tasted fresh in his mouth for the first time in half a year. Funn almost cried about his lost odor, knowing he'll have to start over again, but Master will understand. Master is very forgiving. His next entertainer probably desired a boy who smelled clean, so it made sense that they'd scrub him till he glowed pink.

Yet for all the splendor and alien sense of cleanliness, Funn knew he remained an ugly boy. Until the day he died his mouth would be a jagged ruin with only a fraction of the pearly whites he once boasted, back when he was loved by another name and for another reason. His skin was pale, blotched purple and lined white from a multitude of scars and bruises collected from the beatings of jailers or his more brutal lot of customers. His missing thumb ensured he would never be an effective fighter again, nor would he be anything short of a freak, as his severed ear would testify. Remembering it, Funn could have sworn he felt a square of gauze taped to the side of his head where his ear once was, but that was probably just the sleep leaving his body.

When the pink double doors at the end of the ward swung open, Funn saw the person entering looked a lot like Dr. Ice Cream, no different in appearance then when he last saw her under entirely different circumstances. The chocolate soft serve that acted as a hair piece didn't look a swirl out of place, and when she saw Funn, her ever-present smile deepened. "Finn!" she said. "I'm happy to see you're awake. How are you feeling?"

_How am I feeling? _Funn didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. One wrong word could cost him another finger, or a toe or a tooth. _Just serve and smile,_ he told himself._ Just serve and smile and Master will let you keep your parts. Just serve his friends and be fun. Just remember what I am remember what I am remember what I am. I am Funn and nothing but. That is all I'll ever be._

Dr. Ice Cream paced towards Funn with a bounce in her step, clutching a doctor's bag in one hand and a pail of water in the other. She set the two down on the side of his bed, reached down into bucket and returned with a waterlogged sponge. Dr. Ice Cream squeezed the sponge of excess water and dabbed it across his forehead. It was cool to the touch. She never stop smiling, almost as if his presence brought her real joy. "Welcome home, Finn," she said as she toiled.

A ghostly arrow shot through Funn's chest. _That isn't my name. Not anymore. I'm not worthy of such a respected name. _Funn knew he had no need to worry, however; so long as _he _remembered what he is his most gracious Master would be kind and let him keep whatever parts he still had.

The smiling ice cream practitioner dropped the sponge into the pail and sifted through her doctor's bag. She stood back up with a syringe and a small phial filled with a green mixture. The long needle pierced the corked top and drank up a dose of the fluid. When Dr. Ice Cream spoke, her voice was gentle like a mother's. "This'll hurt for just a pinch," she said. "Here, squeeze my hand if you'd like." Without Funn's consent, she placed her hand in the palm of his four-fingered hand.

He made no effort to close around it. _This is a test, _he realized. _Master just wants to make sure I don't do anything unless my customer demands me to. This wasn't a demand, but an offer. _Funn was impressed with himself for figuring this one out, and he grew hopeful of the prospect of a warm meal as a reward for passing.

When the needle pierced his forearm, Funn felt nothing. He still _felt_ it, that was true, but he showed no reaction to it. Funn had been whacked and cut and beaten till his jailers bled at the knuckles, and there was no pain half so excruciating as the pain that bloomed from entertaining. It was a different sort of pain that would drive any man or woman mad, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy, but Funn eventually accepted that he was no longer a person, and soon enough learned to accept the pain and even after a while find some enjoyment in it, which only reaffirmed his standing as a human being.

_I'm Funn and nothing but. That is all I'll ever be. _

"Dr. Ice Cream" took surprising care in removing the needle from his arm and throwing the syringe into her bag. When she picked it up along with the pail she said, "You have some visitors, Finn." She lingered a second longer, expecting Funn to be foolish enough to respond before a falter was spotted in her cheerful demeanor. With a sigh, she parted.

* * *

**Bonnibel**

"Any change in his condition, Doctor?" asked Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum. She was the first in the waiting room to stand from her place in between Jake and Marceline the Vampire Queen.

When the princess saw her personal doctor's face, it was crestfallen. "Finn is awake," she said. Her voice was grievous, like the boy had actually died, which didn't sit well with Princess Bubblegum.

"Is he alright?" she was quick to ask. "May we speak to him?"

"Princess...I..." Dr. Ice Cream glanced about the room, at the sullen expression of Jake and the concerned one of Marceline, before she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Princess," she said, sounding as though the whole situation was her fault, "I'm...I'm not a therapist. I don't think I can properly assess his..."

"Please tell me," urged Bonnibel. "Don't tell me as a doctor, IC. Tell me as a friend." She ended with a smile, a smile that only a true princess can give her subject to assure her that everything will be okay.

Dr. Ice Cream caved in with that, sighing deeply before speaking. "Finn just...looked at me, Princess. He didn't say or do _anything_. And his eyes...Gob, _his eyes..._forgive me if I sound a bit over-dramatic PB, but his eyes...they were like a _stranger's. _He was looking at me like he didn't know me! There was no laughter, no anger...nothing. He's like a...like a..."

"_A vegetable!_" Jake cried. Everyone turned to the sobbing canine. "My boy's gonna be a vegetable for the rest of his life because we couldn't get to him fast enough!" Marceline took off her leather jacket, wearing a white tank underneath, and draped it around Jake's shuddering body.

"He's not a vegetable," Bubblegum assured him without a hint of worry in her voice. "He's just scared, that's all." A half-lie. _Though I feel like I'm telling a big one. _"Finn will need help readjusting, Jake." She sat beside the dog and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "All of our help." _And who will help the allegedly tough-as-nails, thousand-year-old princess? Oh Gob, Finn... _Just thinking about him formed ice in her belly. Thinking back to the tortured, flayed little thing she and Jake found in the dungeon of that _madhouse, _at her little hero and the champion of Ooo now reduced to a shell of meat and bone...

_I...I... _"I...We should see him," she said. Jake, suddenly dry-eyed, sprang to his feet at the idea and Marceline voiced her agreement. "Do we have your leave, Doctor?" Dr. Ice Cream hesitated before nodding, allowing them clearance.

Bonnibel thanked the centuries given to master control over her "public face" so that it showed no more emotion than needed. It made her job that much easier.

As the trio strolled down the hall, Bonnibel gave herself a once over, pleased at her choice of casual attire for this visit. With only her tiara symbolizing her authority, her wardrobe consisting of a pink hoodie and sweatpants of a darker shade gave Princess Bubblegum a "people" look that she was convinced wouldn't overwhelm Finn in his first time really seeing her after half a year.

_Half a year, _she thought in self-loathing. _What did I do in half a year, other than sit up in my lab on my fat butt trying to figure out who the only obvious person this "Master" was? _Just thinking about this self-proclaimed "Master" made Bonnibel want to march down into the dungeon and slay him herself, but she knew better. _But the things they...they made him DO. They...They... _She would not bring herself to dwell further than she dared, and instead became concerned as to whether or not Jake knew what Finn really went through. Judging by the bounce in his step, one would think not.

_But I know Jake, _thought the princess. _He wears a mask, like me. _

Princess Bubblegum felt her heart clench when Jake slammed the doors to the medical ward open. "_Fiiiiiinn!" _he called into the empty ward. Its one patient was looking up at the ceiling, regarding his friends like they were no more than fruit flies. But that didn't stop Jake, apparently, as his stretchy legs brought him to his bedside in a single step. "Sup, Bro? Hangin' in there?"

Finn's eyes dragged to meet them like it were a great effort to do even that. Bonnibel felt a pang in her heart when she came to realize that Dr. Ice Cream wasn't kidding; his eyes were cold, pale, _dead,_ no more than two chips of dirty ice. The sight only made Princess Bubblegum feel worse, and she couldn't stop herself thinking back to that little weirdo who always gave her puppy dog eyes, when they were blue as the ocean and full of laughter. Now she may never even hear the boy laugh again. _  
_

"Finn?" Jake's tail-wagging slowed to a stop.

Princess Bubblegum stepped beside Marceline and put a hand on her shoulder, ignoring the chill her undead flesh always had. "Finn," she began, keeping her tone as comforting as a mother's, "though me, Jake and my Banana Guards were the ones who rescued you, Marceline here is the real hero. Without her keeping an eye on the sky and an ear to the ground, why, we'd probably still be looking for you all the way out in the _Bad_ _Lands_."

"Good thing those guys leave a trail a blind ape could follow," Marceline joked in an effort to lighten the mood. Finn was about as readable as a blank page in a journal.

Bonnibel broke the silence before it ran for too long. "Finn," she said, stepping forward with her hands folded, "if there's anything you need, you need only to ask. I'll do anything in my power to give it to you."

Hair that one would be forgiven for confusing with straw fell over his eyes. Finn's eyes bounced to the three of them, looking like he was about to say something but nothing ever came. His gaze stopped over Princess Bubblegum, hard as stone with its weight feeling genuine on her shoulders. He asked her in a croaky voice, "Are you my next customer, Your Grace?"

_"Your Grace", he calls me. He just offered me his sick "services" like I was another perv visiting his Master. _Princess Bubblegum felt like screaming, but her mask muffled any attempts to do so. _Ooo can't know that it's hero has returned. __Not yet. Not like this._

"My name is Funn," he continued. "I am here to serve at your pleasure." The way Finn spoke was strained, forced, like he was being threatened with a crossbow on the other side of the room. Neither of them realized he was choking on sobs until it was too late.

* * *

**Flame Princess**

The young fire queen pinched the bridge of her nose, praying to whoever was just in this world that that alone would cure her of the pain in the small of her back, her splitting headache or the assembly of a hundred-something disgruntled flame people. "And what...would you have me do?" she asked slowly.

"Isn't it obvious?!" cried the candlestick of a flame person that was knelt before her. "Declare war on the Candy Kingdom!"

_Is this idiot for real? _Flame Princess looked to her champion and protector, Cinnamon Bun, still as watchful as ever. She saw his hand tighten around the hilt of his long sword as the threats against his old home were made. She would've asked for his advice on the matter, but nowadays Flame Princess expected nothing short of the stoic pastry telling her to "listen to your heart" and leave it at that. Sometimes the little queen found herself pondering whether or not her faithful knight was still a little half-baked.

But nevertheless, she bucked up, straightened her back and ignored the pain that raged on inflicted by her heavy black iron suit. _I'm melting this thing the first chance I get, _she swore for the hundredth time. "I think it's a little silly to wage war on one of our _own allies _over a baby."

"Not just any baby!" the candlestick said, his head flickering with rage. "_The Lich!_" Several peasants chimed in and added to the fear and disgust that went about the room.

Flame Princess let it wash over her before speaking. "Princess Bubblegum has assured me that the baby is under constant watch, and has yet to show any signs of aggression outside of a temper tantrum thrown when he refused to take a bubble bath." The sweetness of her voice was the icing on the cake, and soon the whole assembly turned on their ringleader and were laughing at him. Even Cinnamon Bun was smiling with a rather dumb grin.

But the laughter was cut abruptly short as a familiar little flambit barged into the throne room. Two Molten Guards were in pursuit. "Princess!" he cried. _"Your Highness!" _

"Flambo!?" There was only one reason why Flame Princess should even be seeing the little fire cat, but the urgency of his voice was unsettling. Flame Princess stood up from the red throne. _This can't be good. _"What is it, Flambo?" she asked. A single raise of her hand made the two guards stop in their tracks and bow before her. _They don't need to bow, _she complained.

"What is it?" cried Flambo. "Wha-Wha-What is it? I'll-a tell yous what it is, an' I tell ya again that you can trust Flambo's word for it. I did as yous asked, y'know, with scoutin' Ooo for any signs o' Finn, and guess what? They found the little tyke! _Har! _Th-The look on your face FP, I'm sorry! But it's true! He's alive an' well, licking his boo-boos like a freakin' war hero or somethin' at the Candy Castle!"

Silence fell upon the throne room. Flame Princess felt magma tears bead the corners of her eyes. _Finn? He's...Finn's alright? _

* * *

**Author's Note: This story contains the POVs of numerous characters. As such, it may be disorienting to some trying to figure out who's who and when this event is taking place. For future reference, the header of each "section" will always begin with the name or some variation of the name of the character the scene is following. Thank you everybody who has encouraged me to continue with this story, and let me know your thoughts on the quality and content of the story if you choose to leave a review. Thank you. **


	3. Flaming Passion

**Marceline**

"What do we do?" asked Jake.

After half an hour of absolute quiet, giving the three friends time to silently absorb the situation, Jake's question startled Bonny out of her deep thought. Judging from her reaction, Marceline presumed, she was thinking pretty hard.

"What do we do?" echoed Bonny. "Well...'officially,' Finn is still missing. We help him recover, and until he's better we keep our silence. Ooo will want to see its hero, and Finn just...he isn't ready for that kind of exposure." Poor old Jake the Dog nodded, sullen, but understanding.

It was the answer that Marceline Abadeer had expected. _Oh Bonny, you never fail to disappoint. _That did nothing to soften the blow, however. Even Marceline couldn't guess where to go from here. "I...wouldn't get our hopes up," she advised. "I've seen a lot of things in my day. Crazy things. _Twisted things. _There's been people in Finn's state who did...some pretty bad stuff. You think we can really help him?"

Bonnibel turned to Marceline, eyes focused on the space between her black leather boots and the tiled floor of the waiting room. "We have to try," she mumbled, just loud enough for her and Jake to hear. "What Finn needs is _long _steady, easy recovery." Without warning, Bonny took Marceline's hand in her own and Jake's as well. "By the people that love him," she added. "He should be surrounded by the people that love him."

Jake took an immediate liking to the idea. "Hey, yeah! Some of my home cooking and a bit of good ol' fashioned adventuring is sure to bring Finn out of his mopey-dopey coma." When he smiled at Bonny, she reflected the gesture and gave his paw a little squeeze. His tail wagged hopefully. But Marceline has known Bonnibel longer than Jake has, and both knew that this would be a fickle venture at best. Chances are the old Finn was long gone, as grim as that may be. _  
_

"I'll do what I can," she swore. "Finn's the..." _The first friend I made in a hundred years. _"...he's a good kid. And..." _This is all my fault anyway. _"...and there's no way I'll leave him hanging."

Bonny's fingers tightened around Mareceline's pale digits. "Thank you," she said, smiling.

Marceline grinned with her mouth, but not her eyes. Though chances are her longtime friend knew the difference. _Finn..._ she thought. _Finn you little idiot you should have listened to me! Why did you wander off without us?! Why...why did you trust me? _Marceline was glad her tear ducts dried up and withered away centuries ago. The Vampire Queen probably couldn't live with being labeled a milksop, and the one who ruined Ooo's last surviving human to boot.

A sudden thought had crept its way into her mind. "I'd stay away from the adventuring," she told Jake. _He could barely hold a sword, I think, let alone fight. _"I mean, the little guy has _probably _been through a lot of crap these past few months. Surrounding him with more fighting and junk wouldn't be the wisest thing we can do to help him get better."

Jake contemplated the floor a moment, then looked back at Marceline. "Yeah, I guess you're right." _More than you know. _"Alright Marcy, no adventuring. So what now?" He let his hand fall from Bonny's grasp; without even realizing it, Marceline kept her fingers and the candy princess's locked, ignoring the slight stickiness her gummy skin always had.

"Well," started Bonny, using her free hand to rub her chin, "the wisest thing to do would be to let him rest. Just until his..._injuries_ heal. Then we can bring him home. I think he'll be well enough tomorrow morning."

"Heh-heh, good." The fleeting mirth left Jake's face, suddenly growing dark. "And what about our friend down in the dungeon?" he asked, tone maintaining a steady wolfish growl. "Give me two minutes, P-Bubs, and I'll have that little worm crushed." He slammed an oversized fist into his open palm for emphasis.

Marceline raised her hand and said, "I second that notion."

Being the lawful princess that Marceline loved to hate, she shook her head. "No, Jake. He's still a part of another kingdom. A disgusting one, yes, but a kingdom nonetheless. Doing anything rash could lead to catastrophic ends."

"Then put all the blame on me!" Jake proposed. Marceline grinned; his compassion was so heartwarming that it almost got her dusty old ticker beating once more. "I can take it! Finn and I have faced off against those jerks before. Just give me a truckload of coffee and a good set of earmuffs and I can take on their entire army myself."

Marceline smirked and bumped her fist against his. "Save some for me, why don'tcha?"

Bonny shot her a glare that said "don't encourage him; shut your mouth before I shut it for you." Even if she had the heart and spirit right now to do so, Marceline knew better than to egg her on. She instead dropped both feet to the floor with her hands folded and solemnly said, "Agreed. We shouldn't execute the monster that turned Ooo's hero into half a zombie."

"Oh, Marceline," Bonnibel sighed. For a moment there, she sounded like she wanted nothing more than to get some sleep, leaving the vampire to ponder how much she has slept since recovering Finn. "This is a delicate situation we're dealing with here," she explained. "One wrong move and I could put my entire kingdom in jeopardy."

Marceline leaned back on nothing but air, waving her hands in dismissal. "Fine, whateves," was all she said before dropping the subject completely.

Though such insolence would appear rude to an outsider, a close friend like Bonny knew that Marceline held a great respect for the responsibilities she took on as ruler of the Candy Kingdom. The Vampire Queen just could not imagine what it must be like to always have her "public face" on, and govern one of the most powerful kingdoms in Ooo while always looking over her shoulder for poor old Simon Petrikov and, on top of all that, tend to her every subjects' wants and desires. And now she just added "take care of Finn because his stupid vampire friend didn't keep a close eye on him" to her checklist.

The longer she dwelt, the worse Marceline's insides twisted up. _Why did I have to kick those two out of their tree house all those years ago?_ she thought. _It would have been SO easy just to see them sleeping in their beds and tell myself "No, not today." But no. Instead, I thought it would be fun to mess with them. And then we started hanging out, and I slowly grew close and attached and actually cared about them like a...like a... _She couldn't even think of the word, like her brain itself would choke on it.

"Bonny?" Jake and said princess turned, both a little taken aback by Marceline's suddenness. "Bonny," she recast, a bit more calmly, "don't..." _Be cool, Marceline. You have to be cool in front of the only two people that knows you're faking it... _Marceline sighed, silently cursing her thoughts.

"Marceline?" Bonny was looking at her with those pig purple eyes of hers, the kind she always got when comforting her subjects.

Or an old friend.

Marceline forced herself to blurt it out, before the silence became too awkward to bear. "Don't stress yourself over Finn, is what I'm saying. Let Jake and I take care of the little guy. You've got better things to do." Marceline would have stuffed her hand into her mouth and bitten on it if she didn't have any self respect. But "would've"s and "should've"s aren't going to take back what she said. _Why did I say THAT? Stupid stupid stupid..._

"_Better _things to do?" Bonnibel angrily stuffed her hands in her hoodie pockets and stepped forward. "Marceline, one of my _best friends _needs me!"

"You-!" _Why can't I say it!? Urgh! _Marceline angrily breathed through her nose and shot knives at the mocking orange sky. "Really, Bon, we can handle it," is what she decided on saying. "And I know you feel responsible for Finn, but...well, I know you. You have too much on your plate!"

"My _plate?_" Her tone was cold enough to freeze water. "You're saying that Finn isn't important enough to me to prioritize." It wasn't a question, but a statement. _  
_

_ Stupid! Me and my big fanged__ mouth. _Marceline felt that nothing she could say right then and there would coax Bonnibel into calming down after what she just heard. "Do you know how bad that makes me _feel?_" she shrieked, her face blood-red. "Marcy, The Lich could be reborn and I'd _still_ have room on my plate for Finn! Flame Princess could declare war on all the neighboring kingdoms and this 'Master' execute an escape plan the very next day, and even then I'd have room for Finn. Magic Man wreaking havoc and Ice King kidnapping every princess under the sun with LSP moaning about her lack of a love life in my ear and even with all that, _all THAT,_ I'd _still _have room for Finn. And if I just didn't have any, then I'd push a bit off and make some." When her rant concluded, a light pink slowly returned to Bonny's huffing face.

Silence hung just long enough for Marceline to hear Jake mutter _"Drama Princess." _But only for that.

For another presence was felt in the room; one that smelled of a summer campfire and had a voice that Marceline thought she'd never hear again.

"Hello?" asked the little voice of Flame Princess. "Is Finn here? Can I see him?" They turned, and there she was, dressed up to her neck in sinister black armor, hair sputtering like wildfire, eyes soft and innocent as a newborn lamb's.

* * *

**Flame Princess**

"You!?" Princess Bubblegum shrieked like a harpy, and even squawked like one too as she tripped and flustered over her own words until she managed to force out, "Wha-? What in the _world _are you doing here!? How'd you know about Finn?"

_This is how you greet delegates from neighboring kingdoms? Urgh, relax, FP. Relax. One...Two...Three...Four... _Flame Princess exhaled heavily through her nose.

At Bubblegum's sides, Marceline and Jake the Dog stood with their arms folded. The old mutt looked more shocked than angry to see the girl that broke Finn's heart a year ago.

_It's not like it was all my fault. _Regardless, Flame Princess was as glad to see him as she was confused about the trio's behavior. "What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "You found Finn, right?"

The princess of the Candy Kingdom shot a look at her two companions, teeth gritting and face reddening. "_Yes,_" she hissed, slowly turning back. "But how did _you_ know that? _Who else knows?"_

Bubblegum's fury, Flame Princess came to realize, was not born from malice but of fear. _She didn't want anybody knowing that Finn is back? Why? _Flame Princess quirked a brow. "What's going on here?" she asked. "Why is it so bad that I not see Finn?" When none of them answered, aside from the grating sound of Bubblegum grinding her teeth into bone meal, Flame Princess frowned. "Is this about me? Can't we just let bygones be bygones? We should all be at Finn's bedside! Not arguing here like a bunch of little kids."

A disparaging snicker from Bubblegum. "Only you would think this is about you. That's _so_ _typical_ of fire people."

Flame Princess stuck her pinkie in her ear and leaned in a little closer. "Pardon? Did I hear that right?"

Marceline started hovering away, hands risen up as a mock shield. "Woah. I'm staying out of this one," she muttered. _It's just Bubblegum being Bubblegum. Just Bubblegum being Bubblegum. __One...Two...Three...Four..._

"Seconded." Jake followed suit, his hands fused and molded into the likeness of an actual riot shield.

The princess's arms crossed over her bosom; the turquoise in her circlet flashed angrily in the orange sunset filling the room. "I'm not telling you _anything,_" she snarled. "Not until you tell us how you know about Finn." You'd have to be a half-baked cinnamon bun to miss the hostility in her tone.

Flame Princess swallowed a groan, noticing the parallel between her kingdom and the situation she's in now. _They aren't going to let me in until I fess up. Fair enough. _"I had a friend running all over Ooo, looking for Finn." Now she folded her arms, awaiting Bubblegum's inevitably furious reply.

"So you had spies without the rest of the land knowing it?" Bubblegum's teeth clenched hard. Flame Princess stifled a giggle at how alike her face looked to a strawberry.

_Oh P-Bubs. You never fail to meet my expectations. _She shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah, I did. Well, only one. But what's your point? You certainly have your share of secrets, so why can't I have mine, Ms. 'I-put-a-tracking-device-in-Finn's-ear'?"

Jake and Marceline snickered, but silenced immediately after a sharp glare from Princess Bubblegum. "Alright, fine," she grumbled, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pockets. One would be forgiven if they mistook the casually-dressed Princess Bubblegum as a teenager who has just been grounded to her room. "Very well. I shall let that slide, but only if you tell me that you and your little spy are the only ones that know."

_Uh-oh. _Flame Princess felt her insides twist up. Whatever secrets Princess Bubblegum was trying to concoct, she seemed hellbent on keeping them. And her raging about was the last thing Flame Princess wanted to hear at the moment. "Finn has been missing for half a year and you want to argue about _this_ nonsense?"

"Do your people know," Bubblegum started, slow with a controlled fury in her tone, "or not?"

Flame Princess wanted to scream. She wanted to hurl a fireball and Bubblegum's stupid snarling face and barge into the medical ward herself. _Why is she being so DIFFICULT!? What's wrong with me seeing Finn!? _But Flame Princess remembered the lessons Cinnamon Bun taught her; she exhaled deeply through her nose, counted to five and cleared her mind and answered with all the pleasantness she could muster. "If I recall," she started, smiling with her mouth but not her eyes, "you were the first princess to support me in turning the Fire Kingdom into a land governed by truth and honesty."

That was all Princess Bubblegum needed to hear. She turned her back on Flame Princess, inhaling through her nose and exhaling by the mouth. "Well," she said to no one but the wall, "that's that then! I can't swear the entire Fire Kingdom to silence, now can I?"

All the while Jake and Marceline approached the ironclad fire elemental. "I wouldn't push her if I were you, kid," Marceline advised, keeping a noticeably farther distance than Jake from the brilliant heat and light radiating from the fire elemental.

"Yeah," Jake agreed, nodding, "I'd suggest coming back on a later date, when Plubs don't got a mountain of food on her plate."

"Her what?" Flame Princess shook the thought from her head, her fiery hair whirling and hissing as she did. "Jake, please, can't you just let me see Finn? He's my friend too, and I want to see him." That was all Flame Princess wanted to say in that regard, but it wasn't the full story. In truth, she feared that Finn was forever lost four months into his six month captivity in Grod-knows-where. Flame Princess pondered for a long time about her and Finn's ugly breakup, and the embarrassment he made of himself when trying to reclaim the red throne from Don John and her father. She came to greatly regret never spending time with Finn as a friend, especially when she heard about the botched reunion with his two-faced father that resulted in a broken heart and a lost arm. _He should have called me. I would have been willing to talk. Why didn't he call me?_

But Flame Princess knew in her heart that no reason would justify the fact that she hasn't even talked to Finn since the Don John incident, and as his ex-girlfriend and alleged friend, that was unacceptable. Whatever her reasons, she knew voicing them would only result in her feeling worse about the situation than she already did. If Bubblegum denied her entry, it would be treason to disobey. And if Finn was as messed up as they said... _He's NOT! Urgh, ca__lm yourself, FP. Calm yourself! One...Two...Three...Four..._

"Just go home, FP," Jake said, clearly trying to sound as courteous as possible when essentially telling her to take a hike. "I'll let you know when Finn is feeling better, I promise."

"How bad is he?" she had to ask. "Fla-I mean, my sources say that he was 'licking his wounds like a war hero'. How much of that was just a fictitious story?" She hoped the jape would lighten the dour mood, but it only seemed to have any effect on Jake.

But even with him, the humor seemed to have almost sailed completely over his head, had it not been for the faint smirk that played across his lips. "It was Flambo, wasn't it?" he asked, completely deadpanned. Flame Princess hesitated a nod. "Figures. Who knows what that guy saw? Listen FP, Finn is...he's gonna need some time to recover. The poor guy's been through a lot."

_What happened to Finn!? _she wanted to scream. The suspense felt like a knife in the gut. _One...Two...Three...Four..._

"Jake..." Flame Princess placed a lobstered hand on his shoulder. She sensed the skin underneath his fur prickle at its surprisingly cold touch. "Jake, as Finn's friend I'd like to help him in any way I can. Please." She looked to Marceline, hidden from the setting sun's light in the darkening shadows, and then Princess Bubblegum, one hand on her hip and the other clamped over her mouth in deep thought. Flame Princess almost felt bad for the conniving candy queen; it was clear that she didn't want anyone knowing that Finn has returned, at least not yet. The why of it though was still a mystery. "I know," she continued, "I know deep down that you don't want me to hurt him. And I don't know what I can say to assure you that that is not my intention. Just five minutes, Jake? Please?"

It broke her heart to see the look Jake had right then and there. Clearly he wanted to be nice to Flame Princess, and may even had thought for a second that seeing her would help Finn with whatever he was going through. But on the other hand...she didn't know. _What's on the other hand?! One...Two... Oh, w__hat happened to you, Finn?_

Surprising everyone in the room, Princess Bubblegum was the one who finally granted Flame Princess entry to see Finn. Though the candy queen made sure to pour as much salt into old wounds as possible on her way in. "Very well," she started, voice already dripping with venom. She had her back turned to Flame Princess. "Fine. Go see Finn. Go to him, and when you see him, I want you to _look _at the storm your little spy games have wrought upon his life." When Bubblegum turned, Flame Princess's heart shattered to see tears beading the corners of her soft purple eyes. "And I'm sure seeing you isn't going to screw his head up anymore than it already is. So go. _Go._" Princess Bubblegum pulled a handkerchief from her hoodie pocket and wiped away any evidence that she was capable of genuine compassion.

Flame Princess almost didn't want to go in, for fear of both the unknown ahead and Princess Bubblegum's warning had its claws hooked in deep. When she slowly pressed on, she found herself stopped by Jake's arm extended and molded as a velvet rope. "Uh, FP? You got anything under..." He gestured to her whole body. "...that?"

"Yes?" she answered, awkwardly.

"Please, remove your armor," was what Princess Bubblegum said. Her voice sounded thick with grief. "He may have been intimidated by our 'regal appearance' after not seeing us for so long. Can you do that much, for him?"

_Are they trying to humiliate me, or make me feel bad? _Flame Princess could not say for sure, and in the end she consented with a nod, seeing no benefit in arguing over that. She opened the iron fastenings of her breastplate and let it fall with a heavy _thunk, _then undid the clasps on both wrists and let her gauntlets clatter to the floor as well. Before long, her second skin was shed, leaving Flame Princess in a state she hadn't felt in what seemed like thousands of years: vulnerability; a vulnerability to the elements, the light draft in the room and the stares of three people she never expected to be so exposed to, with only a thin white dress clinging to her rather generous figure.

"Is this good?" she asked, hands tucked under her armpits.

Princess Bubblegum wordlessly opened the door and allowed the fire queen to enter.

* * *

**Funn**

When the double doors at the end of his private ward opened, Funn half expected to see the Dr. Ice Cream lookalike again, or Princess Bubblegum taking up his offer. _There was once a time where I would've loved to entertain the Candy Queen, _he thought. _But now she's just another customer, using me for fun and nothing else. I'm Funn and nothing but. That is all I'll ever be. _

But instead it wasn't another customer, or the good doctor, but a ghost; a ghost from the other boy's past: a ghost with glowing orange skin, fleshy and soft, and hair red and blazing like a bonfire. She even dressed like a ghost, clad in a simple white dress that barely brushed past her knees.

"Your Grace," he croaked. _I remember you. You're just as beautiful as the other boy remembered. _Funn gasped a little, realizing what he just thought. _That was wrong of me. Oh Master, I'm sorry. _Funn struggled to raise his hand, but when he finally he, he brushed it across his own cheek as a weak little slap. _It'll have to do, until Master can distribute proper punishment. That is what I deserve._

The Fire Queen strode slowly towards his bedside, hands folded over her little round belly. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates as they analyzed every inch of his body.

"You find me repulsive, Your Grace?" asked Funn. He flashed her a broken smile to prove a point.

The Fire Queen shook her head, slowly with her lips slightly parted. Whether it was to his question, or disbelief over his state of being, Funn could not say for sure. "Finn..." was all she said. Her voice sounded pained, like Princess Bubblegum's from before.

"That's not my name, Your Grace. You're thinking of that other boy, who was once a hero to many and a bane to others. I'm just Funn, and nothing but. That is all I'll ever be." With that, Funn turned his head away from her, hoping that doing so would block the memories from flowing in. _I mustn't remember. Too many memories of her-memories of the old boy. Master carved thrice as many scars on my belly when I said her name aloud, and he trusted me not to remember. He TRUSTED me. _

"Finn..." came the Fire Queen's soft little voice, sounding like she was now at his bedside. He could feel the heat radiating from her bared flesh. "What _happened to you?_" Her voice trembled.

Funn shifted his head, looking up at the ceiling now, but not at her. _Mustn't look. Mustn't remember. My eyes were never meant to look upon her, whose face is so fair. If she chooses to look upon me, then let her see what the old boy went through so that I may be born. _Funn grabbed his blanket in between two of his four fingers and pulled the covers down, past his bloated and hollow belly, past every cut, every lash and every scar that marked his skin for his insolence and blotted with every kind of bruise imaginable, from blood-red to blue and yes, even purple. His left nipple was but a memory, swapped instead for a hideous brown and red scab that would likely remain a scar for the rest of his days. The Fire Queen whipped her hands up at the very sight, covering her mouth presumably. "I deserved this," he admitted.

A sharp sniffle. "Finn," she started, "you've acted like a _pretty big _dumb-butt before, but I swear...if you say that you...deserved _this, _I'll_..._"

_Hiss-hiss-hiss_

Funn smelled burning linen, and made out the thin tails of smoke that passed through his field of vision. _Even her tears are fire. _"I did," he affirmed, voice croaky and devoid of life, as it should be. "I'm a retched little thing, Your Grace. Always. Once upon a time, I went by another name. And that boy lusted for you in ways even _he _didn't understand." A brief silence to allow the words to sink in. "But Master found him, and explained his disgusting habits. He explained what the boy's developing body was going through when he saw you battling the Ice King." Funn remembered the fight like it was yesterday, and the tingling feeling he had when dreaming about it later that night. Nowadays he felt nothing. Master saw to that. "He gave the boy what he desired, in the form of beatings and flaying."

Funn wondered for a second over what the Fire Queen was thinking. She probably saw him for the sick freak he truly was. "Even you went by another name, Your Grace," he explained. "Flame Princess."

"I still am," she said. Her tone suggested otherwise. "And your name is Finn the Human."

"No I'm not." _I'm no one. I'm Funn, and nothing but. That is all I'll ever be. _

"Yes, you are!" She sounded like a child begging her parents to buy her a puppy. "Your name is Finn the Human! You have a best friend named Jake, and you live in a tree house with a talking gaming device named BMO! You're the hero of Ooo, and champion of Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum of the Candy Kingdom!"

Funn knew better than to argue with customers, but even before his reconditioning he knew better than to prod at the wound of an elemental, so he withheld his thoughts. "We're always morphing into different people, Your Grace. Always. Sometimes we just don't know it. But Master does. Master always does." _With his ways of drilling into your brain and that incantation droning away like a siren when he wants you to do something. _Funn hadn't had the honor of being 'looked into' by Master, however. He has been very weak, ever since an encounter with the other boy some time ago.

* * *

**Author's Note: I don't exactly feel this chapter was up to par with the last two. I dunno; writing Flame Princess and Marceline is kinda hard for me. What do you guys think? I promise that the next will be better.**

**And on a note on the POVs and characters' names: because some people are asking-No, Funn is NOT a spelling error. Finn has been in captivity the last six months. In that time, he was treated in ways that no man ever should, and became this Master's "entertainer" for guests of his. Alias "Funn." If you don't know what I mean by that, perhaps it is for the best. I won't ever be outright saying it in order to keep this rated T. **

**As for other characters, I sometimes write their names differently depending on whose perspective it is. Notice how in Marceline's section Bubblegum is never referred to as a princess? Just "Bonny" or "Bonnibel"? Or in Flame Princess's section PB is called "conniver" and "Queen"? This is intentional, to give each their own unique sort of flair and how they view each person. **

**Anyways, thank you all for reading and reviewing, should you choose to leave one. **


	4. Of The Past

**Flame Princess**

_What have I done?_

Flame Princess flew. She flew _fast. _She didn't even linger to say goodbye; she just collected her armor and shot out the window so fast it may have broken the sound barrier. Flame Princess could not have cared less about her subjects ogling her as she flew by in her nighties, nor about how rudely she dismissed her court through illegible screams and barked orders. They all filed out-every fool and cupbearer and steward and councilman-grumbling under their breath as they passed through the great redstone threshold held open by Cinnamon Bun.

When it was just the two of them, he made a cautious advance on the princess, listening intently to her soft little huffs and sighs echoing throughout the now-vacant throne room. Her iconic black set spilled out of a makeshift bundle forged from a pillowcase at the feat of her throne, leggings and breastplate and all.

Flame Princess laid back, sighing, cross her bare orange legs. "Cancel all appointments, Cinnamon Bun," she said, half in thought and half in reality. She sounded half-dead.

"I can't do that, Flame Princess," claimed the ser. "That is a job for Seismic Pool, your steward."

"Then tell him, please."

"You kicked him out."

It took every fiber in her being not to explode right then and there. "Then head out and find him," she told Cinnamon Bun, slow and evenly like he were once again a half-baked halfwit. She was relieved, for both herself and her loyal knight, that Cinnamon Bun said no more, as the solemn echo of the triangular door shutting indicated.

_I shouldn't have done that, _she realized soon after. _I need someone to talk to._

Flame Princess hunched forward in her giant throne, face burying in her hands. "What did I do? What did I _do?_" Flame Princess couldn't spare more then half a thought contemplating what she did, it pained her so. Finn... _Finn... who DID this to you?_

"They must be lying," she told herself. "That wasn't Finn. They were lying. It should be treason to lie to a princess." _The real Finn has five fingers and a quick smile on his lips. He has silky golden hair and eyes that are as deep and blue as the ocean. That thing back there had none of those things. They were lying lying lying..._

Flame Princess felt molten hot tears squeezing through her fingers. She couldn't get that sack of meat with chips of ice for eyes and a ruin of a smile out of her head. _'I deserved this,' _she vaguely remembered him telling her about two minutes ago. The rest was a blur, half of her listening to her own hurricane of a thought process. What did he mean in reference to her fight with the Ice King?

_Do I even want to know? _"I should have just listened to Bubblegum," she told the ground. "And now Finn is...his life...oh _Grod._" She rubbed her eyes hard with the heels of her palms. "What did I do?"

"Something terrible, if I may be the judge of such things," came a voice from above.

Flame Princess had almost forgotten she was never alone in the throne room, not truly. The tears in her eyes sizzled and faded on the spot, and her hands became wreathed in golden flame. "Don John," she growled. The voice was unmistakable, that low rasp with a hint of an accent.

The Flame Lord's chuckle sounded a hollow rumble within his glass prison. "At your staunch service, Your Magnificence."

Flame Princess couldn't discern whether or not he was mocking her; he always had that irritating smirk on his lips like there was this big joke that only he knew about. It never failed to put her on edge. "What do you want, traitor?" she snapped, not in any mood for such games with the wizard of flame.

High up in the lantern, Don John sat with his goat legs crossed. "To be free," he said. "To be the most powerful wizard in the world with a beautiful wife and lots of money. But we can't get everything we want, now can we?" Only John laughed at his joke. It was a joke, right? "Come here, Your Grace. I grow oh so lonely these days, and your father is like a broken record and I grow tired of whooping his bronze can at arm wrestling."

"It's rude to demand things of your king," she was quick to remind him, hair splayed out in every direction to appear threatening.

"Then let us be thankful you are not a king. You are a queen." His yellow-lipped smile was slimy and glistening wet with treachery.

Flame Princess's eyes narrowed, her arms crossed, and her legs became a tail of fire. She ascended to meet Don John in the eye, sneaking only a tiny glance past his shoulder to see her father sleeping. "Would you like another cold shower, DJ?" she asked. "I'd be_more_ than happy to oblige. If you hadn't noticed, I'm in a pretty rotten mood."

"You mean moreso than usual?" John's smile faded when he saw the queen's scowl darken. "Bad joke. Apologies. Being trapped in this lantern for, what, a year now? It has me a tad bit on edge. No Flame Princess, I would just like to talk. Spare me this one kindness."

Flame Princess took a minute to size up the lord, taking note of his snakelike eyes, lying lips, the horns on his head that reminded her of a demon. "I don't like you, Don John," she told him with chilly courtesy. "I don't like the way you smile. I don't like how you conspired with my father, and turned my subjects against me. I don't like how you wanted to _marry me. _Now if you'll be so kind..." She turned and began to make her descent when Don John cried out, "Wait!"

She slowed; he sounded genuine, like he truly didn't want her to go. Flame Princess turned slightly, giving him only a suspicious glare to work with. "Just wait," he repeated. "Please. About the marriage...it was never truly like that."

"Dude..."

"Can you blame an old goat for wanting to secure his family's legacy?"

"_Dude! _Legacy? I'm a teen and you're, like, forty! What the heck does that say about you!?"

Don John took a few seconds to mull over her words, looking more confused than guilty. "Well," he started, "I'd say it makes me a nice man who is concerned for his family's future. Besides, it's not like I would have tied you up and forced you to marry. I _am _a gentleman, after all."

Flame Princess thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess there's that." _But I still don't like you. _There was a lingering sense of _deja vu _about this whole conversation that she just couldn't ignore. All too well she remembered Don John's pathetic attempts at "explaining" himself, in which he proudly regales the tale of how her father offered him a seat on his high council if his daughter should ever come to overthrow him. _If you told me about the coup, _she thought for possibly the millionth time since the ordeal took place, _I would have given you that spot. You would've became my court sorcerer. _Instead she has that pile of coals, Magmeius the Magma Mage. And Magmeius is an idiot. "If you think good behavior is going to get you out here early," she told the wizard, "then you've got another thing coming."

"Think, child," he advised like a kindly master. "Where would I go? I've probably lost all my property by now, and I believe my wizard's membership expired a while back. Nowhere to really go, but here. And I bet even in my own home I'm unwanted." Don John chuckled a bit. Flame Princess suddenly felt like she had snakes wriggling under her skin; even when trying to act what is presumed as casual he comes off as sneaky and deceitful. "So you did something really bad?" he reminded her. For a minute there, asking her that question with such intrigue and rapport in his gravelly voice gave the Flame Lord a strange paternal vibe that Flame Princess had never experienced for herself.

Admittedly, Flame Princess had forgotten all about her woes when she engaged in conversation with Don John. Being reminded of it so abruptly was like a bad taste in her mouth that she just wanted gone. _He did that on purpose,_she tried to convince herself._He knew that I was starting to forget, so he brought it up. _She stamped out that fleeting moment of seemingly paternal affection from before, but it sprung up again as Don John resumed speaking.

"I'm guessing this is connected to Finn the Human?" he asked, knowing the obvious answer; it was clear he was trying to get under her skin. "A good lad, I'd say. Thick in the skull but swift with a sword, from what I hear. How is he faring?"

"Not good," said Flame Princess's lips. _I didn't mean to say that! _And yet words continued tumbling out of her honest little mouth: "He's in..." _Nowhere. He's completely lost his mind and there's nothing I can do about it. _"He's a mess," she finally managed to blurt out. "And I just made his problems a whole lot worse, DJ."

The Flame Lord groaned to himself, as he always did when in meditative thought. "The whole kingdom has been talking it up since you left," he said.

"I've only been gone for half an hour. How bad is it?"

"Bad enough, I'd say. Every guardsman and noble butt-kisser in this throne room has been telling everyone that passes through the same tripe. 'Finn the Human has returned!' they say. 'Did you hear? Finn the Human has returned! Cut his way out of his prison cell like carving a cake!' I, for one, am not foolish enough nor am I juvenile enough to fall victim to such..._romanticized _ideas. Not until I see it with mine own eyes, as old and failing they may be."

Flame Princess felt her stomach twist up something awful and tasted bile in the back of her throat. She prayed to Grob, Glob, Grod and Gob that word hasn't spread throughout her kingdom. She prayed, and prayed, and _prayed. _But things couldn't be more worse than she initially feared; everybody and their mother was talking about it. Thinking back, during her rushed return to the Fire Kingdom and amidst all the laughing and pointing coming from the derogatory flame people gawking at the nightie-clad princess, she swore she remembered hearing a sparse few talking excitedly about Ooo's mighty champion returning triumphant from a prison break where he was being kept, and that he made it all the way to the Candy Castle before collapsing from exhaustion at its drawbridge.

_They couldn't be more wrong, the fools. _"Well," she thought aloud, "I don't suppose I can close off the Fire Kingdom and prevent everyone from leaving."

"No," solemnly agreed Don John. "Then you'd be too much like your father, and we wouldn't want that."

_And what is THAT supposed to mean? _she wanted to say if she hadn't counted to five like Cinnamon Bun taught her. But even so, the traitorous goat's ambiguity and mind games were beginning to grate on the short-tempered princess.

For as long as she could stand the silence right then and there, Flame Princess withheld voicing her thoughts. She was successful until a mighty terrible one ate its way out of her. "For once in your life DJ, be honest:" she started, pausing to sigh heavily, "do you have an _inkling _of how it feels to be one of the most powerful flame people of our generation, and being completely helpless to do anything to help your friend?"

John held his silence, thinking for a spell. His yellow lips worked in and out until finally he said, "More than you realize, Your Grace. But in case you were unaware, _violence doesn't solve everything._"

Flame Princess had no idea how to respond to that, nor did she particularly care to. It brought her thoughts back once again to that mangled thing in the Candy Castle's private ward. Just thinking about the human once named Finn made her sick. "I've got to go," she muttered, drifting slowly down to the stone platform overlooking her throne.

But Don John never liked being ignored. "And what are you planning to do, Your Grace? What shall you do to the enemy that ruined your friend?"

_You liar, _she hissed inside. _You don't care about me. _She could hear the joy in his insolence, the fondness he had for her strength and only her strength. Seeing her explode, she realized, would bring him satisfaction, like that creature named Funn claimed it once did. _Like everyone else in my life, except for Cinnamon Bun. _Thinking about how she once held the silly little boy-hero of Ooo in such astronomical regard...it sent an arrow or two through her heartstrings. _He's meat and madness that's convinced he deserves pain...Oh Finn, what do I do? What did I do to you?_

Don John noticed the fumble in her descent, the sudden trembling in her shoulders, and cackled. "Don't hide it, Flame Princess. You're angry at this, I know. It's in your blood. But tell me, what will the noble, mature, mighty and revered Flame Princess do to the madman that _destroyed _the last and finest of the Humans?"

Flame Princess looked back over her shoulder at Don John with a single yellow eye, glowing and glaring like she were her father reborn. A single droplet of molten lava dribbled down her fair cheek. "I will destroy him," she swore.

She sensed Don John sneering behind her. "Then I wish you the best of luck, Your Grace. And may the Four save us if your petty revenge plunges us into war."

_By Gob he's right. The treacherous snake is right. _At that, the conversation was over. Flame Princess didn't talk to anyone else until later that evening, as she was tossing and turning in bed, when what she could do to help Finn finally dawned on her; it was a plan that wouldn't force him to appear in public eye, and may lend a huge hand in helping him get back into the swing of things.

_I'll take him on an adventure. _And she had the perfect place in mind.

* * *

**Marceline**

It wasn't until well past midnight, where the only sound to be heard throughout the hospital was her own breathing and the steady _boop-boop _of Finn's heart rate monitor, when Marceline dropped from her shadowed corner of the ward. She landed with the silence of a ghost, her feet never even touching the polished tiles that gleamed under the moonlight shining in from the ceiling-windows.

She wasn't sure if Finn noticed her or was ignoring her; she suspected the former, given that her choice of attire being an all-black tank and pair of jeans still shrouded her in shadows. Marceline drifted towards the spaced-out kid, unstrapping her ax bass that hung from her left shoulder and held it like she was about to play. "Yo! Finn!" she called to him in a loud whisper.

Finn's icy little peepers swiveled in their sunken sockets, looking straight at her, almost like there was something far more interesting to be seen hidden behind her back. There was nothing, of course, aside from more empty beds. The eyes didn't bother Marceline as much as it did Bonnie and Dr. Ice Cream. _Mostly because I'm desensitized by this stuff. _Still, her shriveled little heart twisted and lurched at the desolating sight of her good friend.

"Your Grace," Finn said, his voice dry from underuse.

Marceline floated to his bedside, mouth switched into a frown. "'_Your Grace'_?" Marceline snickered. Only she found it humorous. "No one's called me that in centuries. Never liked hearing it, though. Sounds too snooty and dry, know what I mean?"

"I can call you 'Miss', if that pleases Your Grace," he offered.

She ran her fingers down the strings, strumming the bass once; even without an amp, its sound vibrated in the still air of the ward. "'Marceline' is fine, little guy."

Finn swallowed hard, looking like he was about to piss himself. "If that is what you desire, I am at your service Marceline." He nodded, as that was all he could do for a bow.

"You're not at my service," said Marceline. "You're not at anyone's service. Not anymore. Your Master is chained up, gagged and blindfolded down in the darkest dungeon Bonnibel could find. I saw it for myself, if you must know. Between you and me though," she leaned in and whispered into his remaining ear, "_I'd probably find more suitable arrangements in the Upper Nightosphere, but don't tell Bonny I said that. She might make me do that and then I'll have to see my dad._" She pulled away, smiling at Finn, expectantly.

His mouth remained a thin line for what felt like a full minute before speaking. "Your secrets are...safe with me, Marceline. Funn can be fun, but he can also be trustworthy."

Marceline visibly cringed; she didn't even want to be reminded of what Finn had went through because of her, it pained her like a wooden stake through the chest. _Just hold it together, Marcy. Remind him of the good times, and stay away from...from everything else? _Why was this so hard? Marceline never had to suffer feelings like compassion and heartache and guilt before she met Finn. _At least not for a long time, _she thought, remembering back on bleaker times when her world was grey and fire. And cold.

Marceline shook the memories from her skull and stamped out every emotion in her gut until only devilry remained. "Say Finn," she started, smirking like a imp, "remember our jam sessions we did every weekend?"

Finn looked straight at the moon gazing down from over her shoulder. "I remember everything." _Regrettably, _the dead look in his eyes added.

Marceline suddenly regretted asking him that, but pressed on without a falter in her attitude. "Cool," she purred, nodding smoothly. "You're a pretty sweet beat boxer, Finn. How's about you give me a beat?" She strummed her ax bass a quick two times.

Whether or not he was thinking or simply too afraid to answer, Marceline could not say for certain. For the longest time Finn just trembled instead of talking. Marceline began to fear she asked him the worst possible thing. _I should have known. I'm not brutally demanding him to take me like a hound because that's the only world he knows now. This was all a mistake._

"Finn?" she asked, no fainter than a mumble. The boy persisted in his stargazing, breathing suddenly very haggard and broken.

_Grob this is going sour. __Finn, guh, just act normal! Please! _Marceline's old instincts almost resurfaced when she thought about morphing into a demon, or simply backhanding him across the cheek.

When she felt tears prickling her eyes, it was time to throw in the towel at that point. "I'm out of here," she grumbled in a mixture of anger and grief.

But just as the Vampire Queen turned to float up to the skylight, she heard a noise from behind. _"Pt-tch, puh-tch-kuh-tch, puh, tch..."_

She froze like a deer in the headlights. Her head turned, slow like there was a psycho-killer right behind her ready to make a stab. There was only Finn, staring up at the ceiling with his pallid cheek puffing in and out, chapped lips beat boxing a very familiar tune.

Marceline recognized it immediately and joined in without lingering a second longer. She strummed her guitar and hovered back to his bedside, singing as she went: _"La-da-da-da-da...I'm gonna bury you in the ground..."_

When the song concluded and Finn had long since ceased his beat boxing, just as it had long ago during the Door Lord affair when Marceline's singing took a more personal turn, the vampire smiled a radiant wolf's grin. "That was pretty awesome," she said.

Finn's response was not what she had expected. "I will suffer for this." He sounded like he was about to burst into waterworks. "Master never told me I was allowed to enjoy myself outside of entertaining...but I couldn't help myself." Then, for the first time in what felt like a million years, his eyes met with Marceline's. It's funny, she thought later on, how much impact a simple gesture could make. "Marceline Abadeer," he said, "if you are truly the friend that other boy remembers, don't tell Master. Please...don't tell him." His dirty-ice eyes looked like twin pools shining in the moonlight.

_I could argue and argue and argue that his "Master" is no longer a threat..._ she repressed the urge to do so, and instead gave herself pause to actually think before acting, as rare as such a thing was for her to do, _...but that'll probably get us back to square one. Baby steps, Marcy. Baby steps. _She almost felt like she was talking to a baby, as she nodded dumbly and lied through her pointed teeth, "I promise. Master won't know a word about this."

Finn looked like he was just offered his own kingdom to rule. "Th-Thank you, Marceline," he breathed. "You are as pure and loyal as the other boy remembers, and I'm not saying that because I have to."

As bizarre and gut-wrenching as the situation was, Marceline gained an odd sense of happiness from the mad boy's words. "No problem, dude," she said, trying to come off as cool as possible. Thankfully, the silvery moonlight shining overhead shrouded her face in shadows.

Marceline moved to lightly punch him in the shoulder. He showed no reaction to it. "Night, Finn."

When she was halfway at the skylight, making her departing ascent, she almost fell from the air when Finn shouted out, "Wait!"

She turned and saw him looking back with pleading dead eyes. "Please, don't go," he whispered, yet she heard it clear as day. As before, Finn sounded like he was on the verge of crying. But it wasn't borne of fear, not this time, no, but of a different shade of emotion. "Please...I'm afraid of being alone again."

Marceline smiled warmly at the little boy, though she doubted he saw anything apart from the white of her fangs. "Sure thing, Finn." She floated down to his bedside, remaining a silent presence that left him more content than talking ever would. It wasn't until the sun began to peak its head over the Cotton Candy Forest, when Finn was still fast asleep, that it dawned on Marceline about his particular choice of song from before.

_It's in the title, _she realized. _'I'm Just Your Problem'. _Did he do that on purpose? Was Finn subconsciously mocking her for her failure in looking out for him, as crazy as that sounded? _Or maybe I really am the one who's nuts. __  
_

* * *

**And that's another chapter completed. It was fun kind of rewriting Don John like that. And speaking of that, the "Four" he refers to is akin to Grob Gob Glob Grod, respectively. Sorry for the fewer POVs this time round, though I made sure this chapter was just as long as the last. So yeah, next chapter we'll be focusing on Jake, Bubblegum, and Funn once again. What on Earth is going through that boy's mind? Especially after what happened with Marceline, who knows?**

**You know, as this story progresses and the characters all get into place once the poo hits the fan, I'm starting to get a general idea of how long this fic'll be. Expect this to be about 10-15 chapters long. And while we're at it, I guess I'll respond to a few of the comments left by you, the reader:**

**Rick Bang: Thanks for all of your support, man! As you can see, Flame Princess has made yet another horrible mistake while under good intentions. And I'm glad that you believe I write FP and Marceline well. Hopefully the quality doesn't falter as the fic progresses.**

**Ooobserver: Then I've done my job. You're supposed to get this real sense of hopelessness while reading, and if you do, then that means I'm doing my job.**

**sammniam2: Ah, the mystery of the "Master". Let's see if you guys can figure it out before he/she is revealed.**

**ipcryss: I appreciate your enthusiasm. Yes, I do love the psychological aspect of stories like this. It makes for a somber, gripping tale that really makes you wonder if things will ever get better. But like my updates on this story, only time will tell.**

**Now here's a question for all of you while I write the next chapter: who do you think Master is? What do you think he/she/it is? Leave your thoughts in a review, should you choose to leave one.**


	5. Doubts

**Jake**

The sun was just beginning to peek its head over the Cotton Candy Forest when Peebles came to Jake's suite, garbed in her typical royal pink gown. The princess was kind enough to let him stay the night in the castle, knowing the loyal pup wouldn't leave his friend if given the option. It was time to bring Finn home, she told him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Given that the Fire Kingdom had spilled the beans about his return, she suspected it was only a matter of time before word spread like wildfire and the Candy kingdom became flooded with those yearning to see the hero with their own eyes.

"We need to delay them as much as we can," she told Jake. "At least until I can think of...something."

Jake didn't hesitate to answer. "Yeah, alright PB. Whatever you think is best." Truth be told, Jake had doubts about this whole plan. It wasn't even a plan, he dared to think; PB was just scared stiff for Finn's well-being. And Jake would be a careless fool if he wasn't worried about the ramifications of Flame Princess's genuinely well-meant intentions. _Poor kid, _Jake thought, remembering how Plebs chewed out the fire princess the day prior and then swore up a storm later that night.

He never realized there were so many German words for "snake" and "rat" before Peebles was raving about her over supper.

The castle was still sleeping as Peebles and Jake shuffled to the Medical Ward with Peppermint Butler and two banana guards tailing them from behind. They froze upon entering to see Marceline floating at his bedside, strumming a low rumble on her bass. In all black she had the semblance of a macabre guardian angel.

_Woah. Was she here all night? _"Hey, Marce?" said Jake.

The vampire looked up from the boy, eyes tired, glowing an eerie red in the room's dim light. "Oh, hey guys." She greeted them so casually that Jake assumed PB allowed her to stay the night with Finn.

But one look at the flush creeping up her pink neck told a completely different story. "_Marceline?_" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

Marceline floated towards them, face placid and lacking any conviction like always. "Just keeping the squirt company," she said, speaking low like he were a just a newborn babe. "I'll catch you guys later." Marceline dashed out of the room in the blink of an eye, so fast that Peebles didn't even have time to process what she just said. The princess made an annoyed grunt.

"What was that all about?" asked Jake.

"Shall I send for her, Princess?"

"No," she sighed. "No, Peps. Just leave her. She has her own way of coping with these things."

_Marceline? Coping? _Jake would have laughed out loud if he wasn't looking at Finn, so deceptive under the guise of sleep. But honestly, just the _implication_ that something was eating big, badass Marceline came off as utterly ridiculous. Sure, she was rattled by Finn's current state, and Jake would never doubt for a second that she cared nothing for his plight, as her rampant search for the boy would testify, but to imagine someone as seasoned in the field of death and despair as the Vampire Queen having to "cope" with anything emotionally heavy was quite a lot to swallow.

P-Bubs paced towards Finn's bedside with the others following in close suit. She took the IV tube in between her thumb and index finger and tenderly removed the apparatus from his arm without waking him up. "Finn?" she said, gentle as a spring breeze. She nudged his knobbly shoulder. "Finn, we're taking you home."

The boy's eyes sprang open at once and swiveled to meet PB's, then Jake's, then back to her's. _Yeesh, _though Jake, _you'd think we were gonna throw him in the dungeon. _Jake mentally scolded himself for thinking to tastelessly just then.

But it was hard not to; everything Finn did had a some sort of careful thought behind it, like one wrong misstep would earn him a beating. _No more, bro. Not any more. _

He even made licking his chapped lips a discreet effort. "Did Queen Marceline enjoy her stay?" he asked, tone kept low and gravelly.

The princess said nothing, did nothing, except fold her hands over her bloated pink gown. "I'm sure she did, bro," Jake assured him when the silence lingered for too long. He smiled at the boy. "Marceline knows you're a pretty fun guy to be around."

"Yes," he quietly agreed. "I am Funn and nothing but."

Jake mentally cuffed himself for that one, though from behind little Peppermint Butler clotted the back of his head for good measure. _Glob darn it! Think before you speak, Jake! _But Jake knew he wouldn't remember that for five minutes; he was likely to forget, like always.

"We're going to get you dressed now," Peebles told him. That was Pep's cue to lift her a set of folded clothes that has been sitting under the bed: blue shorts, t-shirt...his white hat. "Are you okay with that, Finn?"

The way Finn was staring at his old hat all bug-eyed reminded Jake of how he once regarded the open ocean. _Scared enough to have a fuggly fear-feasting spirit live in his belly button. _But that was ages ago; the Fear Feaster was but a humorous memory, and his belly button forever cursed with a grisly 'X'-shaped pair of scars crossing over it and sewn closed with a rough stitching job. Finn's current problems are far-graver than something as petty as that weirdo. _What he's been through is nothing compared to that whole biz. _

"Finn?" said the princess.

The boy's eyes shot up from the pair of shorts Peppermint Butler was unfolding. "If it pleases, Your Grace," he said, quickly followed by, "sorry, Your Grace. Apologies. Profuse apologies."

Jake saw a tremble dance across PB's lips, but said nothing. He felt her pain all-too-well. _I know. This is painful to watch. _But Jake kept a solid demeanor and so did Peebles as they worked to slide a pair of shorts over those pallid twigs Finn had for legs. When they lifted his one arm up and fit it through the short sleeve, the boy's face was as placid as ever, lifeless, but still they heard him make a grunt. Jake found why: the baseball-sized bruise under his arm that stretched when they lifted his arm. When Jake apologized, Finn said nothing.

"Now for the hat," Peebles said after covering the boy's mauled torso.

As Jake watched Peps hand her Finn's iconic piece of headware, he suddenly found himself filled with a bit of disgust. _What are we doing? _he asked himself. To him, it looked like they were trying so hard to pretend everything is back to normal, and that this shivering, twitchy creature they found squatting in his own shit in the belly of an unsuspecting keep is still the same little kid that went missing six months ago. _Am I a bad dog for thinking like this? Can we really help Finn make a full recovery, or am I just kidding myself? _To Jake, he looks like a complete stranger wearing the famous attire of his young fostered brother. _Even his eyes are wrong, _Jake thought as Peebles fit the opening around his face, his two chips of dirty ice staring out at nothing all the while.

_He looks like a creepy china doll, _Jake thought before cursing himself for thinking such a thing. _We're gonna help you get better, Finn. I have to believe that we will. _For his own sake, Jake had to. He shuddered to think what he would do if his brother was truly gone...

PB stepped back, smiling with only her mouth. "Are you ready to go home?" she asked.

"Where?" Finn sounded as though the word was completely foreign to him.

For all Jake knew, it may very well be. "The tree house, bro," he said. "BMO and NEPTR are waiting for you." Not a shudder was to be found in Finn's vacant expression.

He held his silence for as long as the ride to the castle courtyard, where the banana guards pushed his bed to a small litter stylized to look like something the Third Earl of Lemongrab would ride. The thing was a gaudy yellow, with bronze lemons topping the four corners and the lemonhead sigil of the earldom emblazoned on either of the white curtains.

Given the way Finn was ogling it from atop his bed, one would think he saw a ghost and half-expected the litter to spring to life and bite him. It did no such thing as a guard scooped the bony little thing in his arms and carried the boy into the litter. "Here you go," he said dumbly, nestling the boy on the pale yellow cushion and drawing the curtain closed. The last Jake saw of the boy who had once been his brother, he was looking about the litter's interior for some nonexistent foe ready to pounce out.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, turning toward the princess.

"No one will suspect Finn is riding with the Third Earl of Lemongrab," Peebles told the gang. She gestured to the vapid-eyed banana guards. "You two will carry him all the way to the tree house. Make sure he settles in, and then destroy the litter before returning here."

"What'll you do, Peebs?" asked Jake.

The puffed sleeves on her shoulders sagged a bit when she let out a sigh. "I will stay here," she explained, "and tell everyone that we've yet to find Finn."

"But the Fire Kingdom..."

"Just heard a rumor." Before Jake could object, PB whirled around and returned to the Candy Castle with Peppermint Butler at her heels.

* * *

**Bonnibel**

"I'm sorry, LSP. I don't know what you've heard but the raid on Moonlight Keep was another failed operation. We didn't find Finn."

"_Shah, _okay_. _You say that every lumpin' time, PB!" The purple lump of sass placed her hands on her lower bumps, all pompous-like. "Well, _I _was talking to Melissa. And _she_ said that her uncle said that his drinking buddy from the Fire Kingdom heard a flambiter or whatever tell the entire court that you've found Finn."_  
_

Bonnibel scoffed, genuinely amused by how far-fetched the scenario sounded on its own merit. "That's a fun little story, LSP. I wish it were true."

"It's not a lumpin' story! It's _reaaaaaal,_" whined the princess.

Bonnibel was surprised that she hadn't called the Banana Guards by now, considering this was probably the fiftieth time she and Lumpy Space Princess waltzed this dance. Perhaps she had grown used to the routine; it filled her with a much-needed sense of normalcy, especially in light of recent events (events that she wouldn't dare speak of truthfully with the gossip-starved lumpy person). It was always in a different place though, which made the game a little exciting. On some days they'd be walking down the castle corridor together, or LSP would break into her room in the dead of night, demanding every time for a status report on the missing human. _It's almost sweet, _she thought. _In a creepy stalkerish sort of way. _

Truth be told, Bonny couldn't discern why LSP in particular cared so much for Finn's well-being that she had to check in after every fruitless sack and raid.

But today in particular, Bonnibel Bubblegum was in no mood for the Lumpy Space Princess's grating little games. At this time she was to be found in her lab, running in total scientist-mode: white lab coat, glasses, ponytail and all, ignoring a splitting headache and thinking hard about what to do with her broken friend and quell the "rumors" spread by that dastardly Flame Princess when LSP unexpectedly barged in through the shutter window, filling the darkened lab with draft and pale sunlight.

"Bonny?" Bonnibel was yanked from her train of thought with Lumpy Space Princess suddenly hovering right over her, her three little bottom lumps waggling in her field of vision. "Bonny," she droned. "Bonny...Bonny...Bonny it's real. It's real, Bonny. It's totes real."

She rose a single hand from her psychology textbook and shoved LSP out of her face. "Please leave, Lumpy Space Princess. When we find Finn, you'll be the first to know. That's a Royal Promise."

LSP descended just enough to be at eye-level with her friend/rival. She had a credulous glint in her eye, maybe some sympathy here and there brought on by the tiredness in Bonnibel's tone but not much else. "And you Royal Promise?" she wanted to clarify.

Bonny removed her large blue-lensed glasses and rubbed each down with the hem of her lab coat. After leaving the question in the air through the whole process, she finally answered after placing them back on her head, "Yes. I promise."

LSP smiled a little chubby smile. "Alright, sweet. _Later girrrrrl!_" She departed through the window she pried open herself, hastily closing the broken wooden shutters on her way out without much success.

Bonny returned with a dainty little tilt of her wrist. _Princess in name only, _she mused. But her thoughts quickly took a dark turn as she realized she was alone once again. _Alone. Always alone. _Bubblegum rose a hand to her breast, feeling underneath her dress and lab coat for the old amulet that was once stolen by a girl named Shoko, and then returned centuries later by a boy named Finn. _I was so trusting then, so young. 'Royal Promise.' Tch. A saying that no longer holds any meaning, now that I've got this in my possession. _The amulet suddenly felt very heavy around her neck, making Bonny slouch in her stool and hover over the bulky tome on extensive psychological deportment.

She stared at it for a long time, never reopening it and instead staring at the old pre-war cover of a human boy caressed in the arms of his loving mother. _Will books save you, Finn? _she asked herself, running her fingers through her gooey pink hair. _Will my extensive knowledge on the properties of biomass and equations on creating candy life bring you back to us? _

"Knock-knock."

Bonnibel whirled around to find Marceline standing in the corner of the room drenched in shadows. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough." Marceline strode towards her friend. "We can't keep this a secret forever, thanks to Princess Temperature-Tantrum. Sooner or later the world will find out that Finn the Human has returned to slay monsters and rescue damsels in distress." The tone in her voice emphasized a bitter sarcasm that was like poison in Bonnie's ears. _I don't want to hear this. _And yet some part of her did, as she allowed Marceline to continue. "One way or another, it'll happen. Every princess from here to the Bad Lands and back will want to see their champion."

_Is she mad, or just plain stupid!? _Bonnie tore the glasses from her face and sent them skidding across the table. "But Finn's not back!" she argued. "Not our Finn, anyway. We just need some time..." _More time to dress him up like a little girl's doll? _a voice in her sneered.

"This isn't something that'll happen overnight, Bonnibel. You know that."

The princess began to flip madly through her textbook. "If I can pinpoint the correct form of treatment..."

"Bon..."

"...the old Finn will be back in no time!"

Marceline slammed her palms against the desk, startling the princess and sending a beaker or two crashing to the floor. "That isn't going to fly, Bon! Whether we can really help Finn or not, people will find out. I trust that you know what you're doing, I do. But would you rather have everyone finding out through some huge, embarrassing accident like in the movies, or with bells and whistles and something to celebrate?" Marceline awaited a response, smiling hopefully with her hands held out to her friend, open-palmed. _Tick-tock-tick, _went the only sound in the room.

And Bonnibel Bubblegum erupted into long, mournful wail.

She buried her face in her hands, bit down on her lab coat, kept her mouth shut to the best of her ability; anything to stifle her loud sobbing from being heard throughout the castle. Bonnie suddenly felt a chill settle on her shoulder, a hand. _Marceline. _She sniffled twice, raising her hand across her breast to caress the vampire's fingers. "I...have no idea...wh-what to do," she whimpered.

Marceline lifted herself atop the table, sitting on it and sliding her other hand towards Bonnie's. "And who are you and what have you done with the PB I've known for a lifetime? Come on, buck up. I'm sure a nerd like you will think of something. You're the smartest person in the world!"

Bonnibel shot up, glaring at Marceline with puffy red eyes. "You have _no idea _what it's like...what it's like to be the smartest person in Ooo_..._and not being able to do anything to help your friend!" she cried. "This isn't something that smarts can solve!" She found herself remembering a time when science didn't save the day, but basic psychology in which Princess Bubblegum took a punch to the face just to quench Finn's lust for revenge against his horrible father. It worked, thankfully. And without Bonnibel losing an arm to boot. _But that was child's play compared to this! A high school psych class more like..._

Seconds passed as Bonnie rubbed her eyes, thankful in silence that her crying had ceased after venting like that. "There, there," she heard Marceline say.

When the princess looked up from her dampened pink palms, she found her spectacles dancing in the air, hovering above the Vampire Queen's open hand. She took them, smiling in thanks. "So I'm completely open to suggestions," she said as she put her glasses on. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"Alright, here me out." Marceline levitated above the desk, crisscrossed with her hands splayed out. "The biggest party Ooo has ever seen."

Bonnibel quirked a brow at her friend's logic. "That still sounds like a terrible idea."

"No, this could really be something huge! Just imagine it: everyone Finn knows and loves gathered from every kingdom under the sun, giving him their best wishes, to congratulate him for being such a brave and dauntless hero. People love that junk!"

"But Finn isn't himself, Marceline. Anyone in the world could see that. And what will they say when they see his injuries? His smile, his missing ear? _His eyes_?" She got a chill at just the thought of it, of all of her fellow princesses eager to re-welcome Finn into their lives and service and instead beholding that quivering wretch named Funn. _It would be a disaster, _she shuddered to think. Bonnibel shook her head. "We can't risk it. We have to bide our time."

But unfortunately, Marceline knew Bonnie more than the princess knew herself. "You're afraid of how everyone will react to him," she stated.

The princess saw no reason to deny the obvious. "Of course I am," she said. "He's so...he's so _fragile, _Marceline. What if something happens that'll ensure he _never _recovers?"

Marceline disagreed, still grinning like a cheshire cat that knew something she didn't. "Have a little faith, Your Highness. No one's gonna peg him with stones. The worst that'll happen is LSP going 'ew, ew, lumpin' gross!' at his teeth." Secretly Bonnibel feared that that'll be enough to set Finn over the edge. But somehow she knew Marceline figured that as well. "Being surrounded by people that love him will be a good thing," she explained. "I was with him, Bon. Last night we sang, and he told me that he enjoyed it. Seems like proof enough that the Finn we know is still in there. And hanging with people he knows will only help his recovery, moreso than being locked away and dressed up in his old clothes."

That certainly changed some things running through Bonnibel's mind. Could her friend be right? Would this help Finn? _Am I willing to gamble everything, Finn's recovery, the love and admiration of his peers, to kill two birds with one stone?_

* * *

**Jake**

The journey from the Candy Kingdom to the Tree House way out in the Grass Lands was a slow going. Trekking through the kingdom wasn't the hard part as everybody expected, no, it was actually the easy part; the litter did a fine job at disguising its true purpose, and few candy citizens questioned them on the Third Earl of Lemongrab's business. Those who did got a cold shoulder from the Banana Guards carrying the thing.

No, the hard part was the ungodly _heat. _It was a balmy, humid disgusting feeling in the air that left Jake hot, damp and aggravated with so much as a lingering mosquito. Although Banana Guards are universally known for being as brawny as they are dumb, even they failed to resist the summer sun and soon their steady pace fell into an unbearably painful crawl. The guards were slow carrying the litter out of the city, and even slower sweating buckets of chocolate milk while panting like dogs. Just looking at the heat distorting the landscape of green ahead was enough to make Jake lapse into a heavy panting. It wasn'tuntil long after he decided to help the guards with carrying the litter to quicken their pace and bring the journey to a swifter end.

Finn, on the other hand, was quite comfortable. After he realized his Master wasn't going to leap out and attack him (or whatever was going through his mind, Jake thought), he quickly slipped into a slumber just as they exited the Candy Kingdom.

_Wonder what he's dreaming about, _thought Jake, followed by, _Do I even wanna know? _

When the litter reached Finn and Jake's home, the sun was high in the sky and hotter than the Nightosphere. Jake looked into the litter and found Finn was wide awake, jostled by the thing's ungracious landing. His white hat was off, lying on the floor neglected with his thin hair falling around his shoulders like dried straw.

"Buh, buh-da-dah! Welcome home, buddy!" said Jake ignoring the hat and gesturing to the house behind them. Finn looked to him with dead eyes, and then at the tree house in the background. For a fleeting second, or maybe it was the heat playing tricks on his mind, Jake swore he saw a glint of recall twinkle in his icy eye, which was as much as he could hope for at this point. "Come on out, buddy. It'll be a party!"

Finn blinked. "A...party?" One would think Finn was a foreigner who has never heard of parties, given the way he was looking at Jake right there.

But Jake nodded with all the enthusiasm he could muster in this heat. "Heck yeah, a party! You love parties!"

The boy's head lolled to the side, away from Jake. "I don't deserve to love anything. I live to entertain, and I am fine with that."

Jake shook his head. "Good Grob you're depressing. Come on!" Jake wrapped an elongated arm around Finn's shoulders and pulled him to the litter's edge. "And now for the first step of the rest of your life, bro!"

* * *

**Funn**

Funn looked at Jake, and then his own pallid feet, the left with three toes and the right with four; both had the big toe severed in his captivity, to ensure that he'd never walk properly again. The first time, he recalled, was actually after his faux escape, where they fired an arrow through his shoulder after a water elemental tricked him into thinking they were busting out together. Turns out it was a sadistic little game put on by Master, and its main purpose was to crush that other boy's spirit. It was quite effective in that regard. The second big toe was lost not long after, about a week if he could make a guess. In that period when he was learning the art of entertaining, the other boy refused to obey and tried to run. He didn't get very far, and master's right hand man ensured that he never would again. He remembered why the left foot lost a second toe, and that was for screaming too loudly when a customer wanted him to be quiet. _I'm Funn and nothing but. That is all I will ever be. _

Jake groaned. "Come on, Finn! I ain't gonna carry you! You're a big boy now. Just put one foot in front of the other..."

"I can't," said Funn, in all honesty. _And please stop calling me that. I'm too ugly and too useless to be associated with one who was once so loved and respected. _

But Funn could see in Jake's eye that he refused to believe his brother was no more. "Here," he said, "let me help you." He took Funn's hands in his own and pulled the boy to his feet. "Up you go!"

What happened next was probably the most rewarding experience Funn could ever recall, right up there with the sick joy he got from successfully pleasing one of Master's friends and being rewarded with a hearty meal. But the experience was so much more minor and petty in comparison to pleasing Master that most wouldn't have regarded it with so much as a passing thought. And yet, Funn did, for in the first time in six months, Funn felt grass beneath his feet. So many sensations burst through his thin, wrinkled soles:

_Plush._

_Fresh._

_Ticklish._

_Clean._

But Funn could barely stand, let alone walk. He collapsed immediately, falling face-first into the green and was more than happy that he did. "Woah! Finn, you okay?" he heard the dog say. _How long has it been since I was privileged with the presence of true nature? _he thought, inhaling the dirt and summer grass deeply. _I think I was called something else last time I did...__  
_

Jake knelt at the boy's side, nudging his shoulder. "Bro? Are you alright?" Funn pushed himself up to meet the other boy's brother's gaze, smiling his broken smile. "Apologies, Sir," he said, still grinning. "The grass just smells really good here."

Jake allowed himself a chuckle, more at the fact that Funn was smiling than anything else, it seemed. "Yeah," he said. "I guess it does."

* * *

**Wanted to keep up with weekly updates. Time to respond to your answers on who "Master" is!**

**Evilcow: Bathboys? Eh, I think they're long gone. But the gnomes, now that's a good guess. But THEY only wanted Finn to power their devices.**

**123lionclan: The snail? Heh, I don't think so. The Lich wouldn't do something like this however. He's just a baby!**

**Rick Bang: Keep looking! I dropped quite a few clues earlier!**

**Thanks for all your reviews and support, you guys! Really hope this story becomes something special to y'all. **

**And for this next question (and be honest): What is your favorite POVs? Which ones do you think I can improve upon? **


	6. Dinner Time!

**Funn**

A crude walking stick made from a branch of the Tree Fort was given to the broken boy. Upon hobbling through its simple, homey threshold, every barrier and instinct Funn developed over the course of his reconditioning was battered and tried against the storm of nostalgia that sent him crumpling to one knee.

"Finn!" Jake the Dog cried, dashing under the boy to support the arm not gripping to the walking stick with his own.

_I remember, but I shouldn't. That life is gone. _It all made him drunk in the senses, the smell of the place-that strong, archaic odor of century-old wood and warm welcomes, good food, and assurances of a fun that will never end that, until recently, upheld such vows. The treasury was virtually depleted, with only a few piles of gold and gemstones spread throughout the spacious entrance hall (likely spent on resources trying to find the old boy), but the wealth that remained was still something worth priding oneself with. Funn felt nothing but nostalgia, longing. It made him tight in the chest, and he hated that.

_I can't remember, _his scarred mind screamed. His heart pumped in protested, _You must! _

"We'd better get you upstairs and on the couch," the dog said.

"The...couch?" Funn remembered that old thing all-too-well, with its depression made by his own butt and that ripe smell it carried into their home from the dump they found it in. _And where the old boy played BMO, yes. _Funn looked down at his one hand, only four fingers waggling; he clenched them into a fist and pushed himself to his feet.

Jake seemed incredibly impressed with this. "That's right, buddy. Baby steps. C'mon, let's get some grub."

_I recall Jake the Dog being an...acceptable cook, _thought Funn. _But the usual grey slop I'm served will unveil this whole charade. _A sudden thought crossed his mind; a horrible thought, but only for half a second: _There's a chance that this is all real, _he dared to think. _That this is the real Jake, the real Tree Fort, the real Marceline Abadeer I sang with the night prior and the real Flame Queen I drove into a sob with my appearance. _His train of thought brought him to a sensible place after that: _What if Master allowed his palace to be sacked? As a test for my loyalty?_

Funn's legs were on autopilot; he wasn't even thinking about them as they brought him limping up behind Jake, across the treasury and towards the ladder.

_Master is smart. He could have had a small garrison tail us all the way from the Candy Kingdom and they'd be waiting outside the Tree Fort right now, ready to slice my throat should I go up this ladder. _Funn's brain worked a plan as Jake stretched his body to the upper level. _I could turn tail and run, _he thought. _Brain this doggy impostor with my walking stick, yes. __Let Master's Cretins see that I wasn't intentionally betraying them. They may let me keep a fingernail or two if I do that..._

His fingers wrapped tightly around the ladder's wooden step.

_If I go ahead I'm dead... _One foot on the lower step. _If I go back, I'm loyal to Master and all is well... _The other foot; his hand swung up and gripped the next step before falling back. _If I look back I am safe, if I go ahead I'm dead. Is that even the real Jake? Or a double? Is Master as cruel as I think he is? YES! Yes, Funn, you fool! Of course he is! HE BUTCHERED YOU LIKE A BLOODY PIG! _The common sense that hollered in his head and rattled his brain was enough to almost knock Funn off the ladder.

Another step, and then another; arm swing.

_If I go back, I am safe and loyal. Loyalty is good, and Funn will please Master greatly. He is as generous as he is cruel, I must remember. _Funn dropped and entire step.

"Jake?" came a little robotic voice. "Is Finn home? Where is he?" That voice...

_BMO with the heart of gold. No! I mustn't remember. I'm Funn. I'm Funn and nothing but. Funn doesn't know BMO. If I go ahead I am dead..._

_Probably._

"He's down below," he heard Jake say, sounding like he was unwrapping something to cook, meat probably.

_Probably. _

"Yo Finn! You need any help!?"

_If I go ahead I am dead..._

Funn held himself there, halfway up the ladder without so much as twitching a muscle. Should he answer? Should he slip out? Should he just let go of the ladder and let the floor below do the rest of the work? So many options, but the real question was if he could differentiate one master from the other. Both parties wanted Funn to do something, and that in turn would be pleasing to them.

_Master may kill me if I go ahead, he may flay me if I go back..._

"Finn?" came BMO. Funn felt Jake's outstretched arms grab him by the sides and hoist him up. He gave no struggle, not that he could if he wanted to.

A snap decision; a spur of the moment; a flicker, possibly, of that old boy's slapdash train of thought:

_...Let him. I don't want to hurt anymore. _

* * *

**Jake**

While Jake set the plates and silverware on the table, he flicked his gaze across the room and saw Finn still sitting on the sofa with BMO settled on the coffee table in front of him. Seeing his brother back where he belongs, with his walking stick resting across his lap, it brought a smile to Jake's face. _This could work, _he thought with hope. _I had my doubts but seeing this now...I'm positive we'll have the old Finn back in no time. _

"How are you, Finn?" asked the little robot.

Finn shifted in his seat. "Comfortable," he said after a spell, sounding nervous for whatever reason.

BMO tossed his controller across the small gap and watched it land on the cushion beside Finn; he didn't even spare it so much as a glance. "Do you want to play video games?" he asked, pretending not to notice that Finn didn't even have five fingers anymore.

Finn, Jake assumed, probably knew this already. Or simply didn't want to. He listened intently to the awkward silence that followed BMO's question as he took the meatloaf out of the oven. _Finn's favorite dish, _Jake thought, brushing sauce over its bark-brown crust. Just the rich herbs and spices he put into the meatloaf was enough to make his stomach growl, and truth be told, he was never a fan of the dish (as he only ever made it when Finn had a craving).

"Smells good?" he called over his shoulder.

It took several seconds for Finn to answer; Jake almost thought the boy was too afraid to answer, but when he did, just hearing his voice made the old dog smile. "Your cooking skills are unparalleled, Mister Jake." _We'll have to work on that, _thought Jake, giddy nonetheless over hearing his brother speak with more emotion than he did this morning. He just sounded so chill! It made Jake's heart guts all squishy.

"Alright," said Jake, turning the knob of the gas stove. "Dinner'll be ready in a few! Just gotta cook the mashed potatoes."

"Yay!" cried BMO and Neptr (who was currently playing Card Wars with Shelby), despite their lack of stomachs.

Speaking of Neptr, Jake saw the twentieth pie that evening sail past his ear and out the window. Jake snuffed the air: _Huh. Peach cobbler. _"It ain't funny, Nep," Jake called back for the twentieth time that evening. "No one's laughing."

"Yes it is! Ha! Ha! Ha!" His silly robotic laughter filled the air for the twentieth time that evening.

Although Jake knew Neptr was only trying to make his creator laugh, he silently questioned why the pie-throwing robot didn't get the M.O. the first nineteen times that Finn isn't quite himself. Jake was positive that BMO knows Finn needs their help, and was only acting like everything is normal as his own method of curing the boy (after, of course, the little gaming system awkwardly clung to Finn's leg after Jake brought him up and sobbed pixelated tears for about an hour). Jake still got chills remembering how BMO swore he'd kill whoever stole Finn every night during his disappearance. He wondered if the little robot still wanted to do that.

After he gave the potatoes a stir and brought the entire pot to the table, it was time for supper.

Jake sat across from Finn, with BMO between either of them on the couch. He was given a plate too, as this was his own way of feeling like an actual person. Jake felt it best never to ponder that for too long.

"Meatloaf, Finn!" said Jake, taking the boy's plate to serve him a helping. "Your fav!"

He said nothing until Jake brought him back a plate with a thick slice of meatloaf and a mound of buttered mashed potatoes. "Thank you, Mister," was all.

Jake frowned. "You know, you don't need to call me 'Mister', Finn. I'm your bro, bro. Not your 'Mister'." He forced a chuckle. "So, y'know, stop callin' me Mister."

"Then stop calling me Finn."

The serving fork almost slipped through his fingers. Jake let out a silent, uneasy '_O-kay' _and served himself.

There was no more talking, no lighthearted jokes from BMO, nor snide remarks from Shelby. Just silence. The only sound at the table was Jake's own fork scraping against his plate.

When he looked up, he saw Finn playing with his food, looking at it like a toddler would regard broccoli. "You don't like it?" asked Jake, holding his tongue just in time to prevent 'Finn' from coming out.

"I don't deserve a meal like this," he quickly said; his awkward four-fingered hand fumbled with the silverware after saying that, trying to reaffirm his grasp but it just ended up falling in his mashed potatoes.

Jake, always loathe of his wild train of thought, suddenly got a stupid idea for a stupid joke, and he spoke without actually thinking. "Master wants you to eat, Finn," he muttered, chuckling for only half a second before he realized what he said. _I'm going to hurt myself now._

Finn, the poor soul, looked up from his plate with wide icy eyes like a deer in the headlights. "He...does?"

"Uh..."

BMO smacked himself in the screen while Neptr and Shelby looked up from their game with dumbfounded looks. _Oh the ball did I just say?_

Jake was about to take back what he said, explain it was just an ill-timed joke, but Finn waited for none after hearing the mention of his vile Master. Just as he was trained like a dog, he asked no questions and did as he was told without hesitation. And before long, the entire plate was near-squeaky clean and Finn was even discreetly liking his four fingers clean of sauce and potatoes.

_Well, at least he liked his food. _Jake smiled a little, and even tittered a bit. _My brother's not a goner yet._

After washing the dishes and setting them on the dish rack, Jake took a seat beside Finn on the couch. The boy was just blankly staring at BMO as he played 'Good Boy' with himself, like he was no more than the world's smallest termite. Suddenly the vigor Jake felt moments ago as he made dinner and watched Finn from afar sapped from his heart and left him feeling dry and grumpy once again.

It felt really awkward. Jake started patting the pudge of his belly until he got bored of that and gazed up at Finn once again: his hair, stiff and gold like dehydrated wheat, fell around his vacant face and covered the white patch that concealed the mauled remains of his ear. "You want me to cut your hair?" asked Jake. He thought that was super lame small talk, but he just wanted to strike up a conversation with the brother who was missing for six months. _Assuming you're still in there, bro. _

Finn flicked him a sideways glance, one that was so quick Jake pondered whether he himself was just seeing things. "If it pleases you, Mister Jake."

Jake furrowed his brow. "I don't care, man. I'm asking: do _you _want it cut?" Finn started sweating bullets, his mouth working in and out as he struggled to comprise a response. _Glob-Gobbit, this is going bad. _Jake fell over on his side, resting his head on Finn's lap and in turn sending his walking stick clattering to the ground. "Forget I asked, bro. Just...just relax, man."

"Re...lax?"

"Yes! Relax!" snapped Jake, throwing his rubbery hands in the air before folding them under his armpits. "Just, I dunno, be _fun_ or something. For me, man." He closed his eyes shut.

Jake would have fallen asleep right there if there wasn't that sudden blast of sensation running down his spine. _Woah! What the flip!? _His eyes sprang open, and Jake was almost dumbfounded to find Finn, not only _smiling, _but also scratching the folds along the side of his neck. And it felt..._great! _Yeah, it's kinda weird, considering Finn hasn't done this since he was, like, nine, but still!

Jake felt his little stub of a tail begin to take on a mind of its own and beat hard and rhythmically against the sofa cushion: _thump-thump-thump. _

"Aw man, Finn! Dude, what's this all about?" Jake asked, half his mind in Happy Town with the other still on Planet Ooo.

Finn's ugly broken smile widened upon hearing Jake's eager panting. "I'm just doing as you asked, Mister."

"Well whatever man! Just keep doin' what you're doing!" _Man, even Lady can't work this kinda magic! (although she doesn't have fingers but that's besides the point). _

"As you wish," said Finn as he worked his hand down to Jake's belly. _Ooooohhhh Glob! Yeah, that's the stuff! _

Jake's tongue lolled out of his mouth as he felt like he was receiving the rub down of a lifetime. He managed to pull it in just long enough to ask, "Dude, Finn, where'd you learn to do this kinda stuff?"

The boy was _more_ than happy to answer. "I've been taught how to pleasure every manner of creature in Ooo," he explained. "Fire Elementals, the great Stone Snails, Candy People, Grass Giants, Lemon Children, Hyoomans, Lumpy Space Persons. Even dogs."

Jake's eyes sprung open; he suddenly felt really uncomfortable. And really _wrong. _"I gotta go," he said quickly, standing just as fast. "Gotta check on the 'taters."

"Did I displease you, Mister?" asked Finn.

Jake paced across the living room, running his fingers all over his body, trying to swat away the millions of imaginary spiders running along his skin. _Oh Gob oh Gob oh GOB that was so wrong! _Jake wasn't as dumb as PB and Marceline thought he was; he knew the full-extent of what Finn had done and what he went through during his captivity.

It made Jake madder than anything; mad enough to want to wage war on that "Master"s entire kingdom.

But Finn...to actually _see _his brother, to _feel _him using those sick techniques on his own person! _I hope to Grob Bubblegum is able to keep a lid on this whole thing! _Jake thought with a strike of fear.

* * *

**Funn**

Going through the motions was the easiest thing in the world. They tell you to do something, you don't pause you just do it, regardless of how sore your bottom will be the next morning. They ask you a question, you say what they want to hear:

_"Smells good?" _he remembered Mister Jake asking not too long ago.

_"Your cooking skills are unparalleled, Mister Jake," _he replied, as he was expected to.

_And it's a good thing too. Mister Jake actually has connections to Master! _Funn hoped Jake wasn't too sore about his unsatisfactory performance.

He had an inkling that the dog who was once his brother had such connections; it wasn't really surprising, given his criminal background. It only reaffirmed what Master droned into Funn's brain during his reconditioning: _"You have no friends, buddy," _he said, smiling his eerie smile in the darkness of the dungeon. _"Finn had friends, but you don't. Otherwise, they would have saved you by now. But they didn't, buddy. Because you have no friends. Funn has no friends. Finn did, but not you." _

Funn had gone through such similar scenarios many a time over the course of his service to Master. _No Funn, you're still Master's Funn little toy. You just have no idea what you're doing here or why you still are. _

Perhaps, like those unbelievably disrespectful thoughts he had while clinging on to the ladder, and his snap decision to actually let Master do something as crazy as to try and kill him (though Master would never dream of inflicting lasting damage on his most profitable toy, and would probably just take an entire foot to ensure that he never runs off again), there are still some shreds of the old boy beginning to resurface.

No, the smartest thing to do was just go through the motions, act like he is entertaining another customer until Master's Cretins inevitably show up to cart him away and then play dumb. _That's something the old boy would do, _he thought. _But I've been bad and I will get beaten otherwise. _Though Master will undoubtedly beat him anyway for doing something as blasphemous as _singing, _and tasting his favorite meal without Master's permission. _No, that wasn't your favorite meal. That's the other boy's favorite meal. Your favorite meal nowadays is live rat. _

_This is wrong. This is all wrong, what am I doing? I'm stabbing Master in the back, betraying his kindness...I'm no better than the people who stole me. _

_But Jake the Dog told me that Master wanted me to eat. What does that mean? Why would Master do all of this? What is he trying to gain? Oh, I shouldn't think such things! Master knows best, Master is kind. He may be just trying to catch a break? But that goes against my teachings, my reconditioning. I was never given any hand-me-downs in the dungeons of his palace. I had to catch my food, and bite into it while it was still wriggling. And now he's giving me a cooked meal, one that also used to be my favorite meal?_

_What am I? Am I Funn, the butchered piece of fun for Master's friends, or am I someone else entirely? Surely the latter; Funn doesn't get full-course meals, sings, laughs or has two robots for friends. And he's certainly not that old boy who wore the white bear hat. He can hold a sword and fears nothing except clowns. That boy is dead. But..._

_...what am I?_

* * *

**Finn's mind is a mess right now. He's gonna have to sort that stuff out. **

**Anyways, I broke thirty reviews with the last chapter. Thanks a ton you guys! Remember to give me your honest thoughts if you choose to leave a review. **


	7. Getting There

**Bonnibel**

The sun was almost as high as it could be when Bonnibel sensed a rush of wind snap her coattails. She turned away from her scribblings on the chalkboard, smiling gaily underneath the film of rubbish clinging to her unwashed face. "Good, you're back," she said, all straight to business. "So give me the lowdown."

Self-possessed Marceline Abadeer was predictably lagging an immediate reply; she never was known for her readiness. "Man, Bonnie. Did you even leave this lab since I last saw you?" Aversion of the subject. It was so like Marceline to do that, Bonnibel mused. Luckily for the both of them the princess has grown accustomed to her lifelong friend's mannerisms that would otherwise be aggravating coming from anyone else. "No offense," Marceline continued, "but you really look like crap."

The deadpan in Bonnibel's sunken face told it all, as did the mustard stains on her lab coat and the complete disarray of her gooey hair, all tied up in a sloppy ponytail. "Just give me the status update on Finn." Her voice was fraught with exhaustion, borne from both a lack of sleep and the weight this whole ordeal has put on her. "Is he readjusting?"

Marceline actually had to ponder a spell and think hard on what to say, which didn't sit well at all with Bonnibel. When she spoke, she uttered the oh-so-dreaded, "Where to start?" _That's the last thing I wanted to hear._ What Marceline said next was the second to last thing she wanted to hear: "You go. I think I still need time to process just what the _flip _I saw last night."

Bonnibel's shoulders sagged a hefty sigh. _So should I tell the truth or lie and pretend everything's okay? Oh, who am I fooling - she'll find out. She always does. _The princess began a deliberate stride across the lab."I...I'm stumped, Marcy." She pinched the bridge of her nose till it turned red. "I really, really am. There's no feasible way to broadcast word that Finn's having a return party without having half of Ooo flock to his doorstep. That, and the Fire Kingdom's buzzing like a bee hive, or so my sources claim. The peeps over there are weaving together some _wild_ theories: Finn's dead, Finn's alive, the Flame Princess lied, Bubblegum lied, for some reason Jake lied, it's actually the Lich wearing Finn's skin, Finn was never gone...My brain is going koo-koo-bananas, I tell ya. But none of that matters. So can you tell me how Finn was last night?"

Marceline gave her friend a hard stare. Bonnie's analytical eye sensed picked up on a very subtle hint of what could be mistrust or even disbelief in those flicks of coal she had for eyes. _What's that all about? _She would never get her answer, for whatever was running through Marceline's vaulted mind surfaced for only a second before returning to their usual mischief and playfulness. "First off, can I just first say that the Fire Kingdom is full of idiots?" she joked.

Her remark actually brought humor to Bonnibel's weary face. "You wouldn't be the first."

Even Marceline got a kick out of that, falling back in midair in a fit of giggles. Bonnie forced a chuckle, just to keep it from getting awkward. Truth is she couldn't tell whether her friend's laughter was genuine or there was something awful eating her. No one, not even her oldest and dearest friend, could ever tell what was really going through the Vampire Queen's mind. Being alive for over a thousand years does have its benefits, as Bonnibel was well aware of.

It became painfully obvious that Marceline's laughter was forged by the latter, as she recovered quickly and her face turned serious like the flip of a dime. Marceline proceeded to regale with the glummest of expressions, "So I did as you asked and made sure everyone did their job. Your guards are smashing that lemon litter with the butts of their spears, still are when I flew by this morning while the sun was coming up."

"And Finn?" Bonnibel succeeded in concealing the anxiousness of her tone, not that it mattered when considering her breakdown with Marceline the day prior.

"Finn made it home. He's not wearing his hat, like, at all." If one thought that Marceline's face couldn't get any more soul-crushing, they would be proven wrong right there. "What's up with that, Bon?"

Bonnibel stroked her chin, pacing a couple steps. "Hmm, I suspected that would happen. Given the nature of his - _eugh _- 'reconditioning', I wouldn't doubt that he feels like a completely different person, and sees the hat as something that this change of mind wants to reject."

"'Person' may be too kind a term." Marceline laid back on a bed of air, arms crossed and her sad face on full display. "He barely did _anything_ last night. He's like a zombie or something."

"But," Bonnie interjected, "if we just keep him under cover, just for a bit, and expose him with things he knows we'll get our old friend back in no time."

Marceline gave Bubblegum another look, that same mistrusting glitter that receded as quickly as it came and rubbed its target in just as wrong a way, but resumed without heed. "So dinner was when things got freaky. Jake made a joke about that disgusting 'Master' and Finn got all scared, and then after dinner things got even weirder when Jake was almost..." Marceline looked away, a flush creeping up her pale face.

Bonnibel did not need to hear anymore to understand. "Gob..." She sat down at her work table and cupped her forehead. "That's...intense. _Gob_. Is Jake okay?"

"He's fine. Just a little freaked out." Marceline stuffed her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, still veering her gaze with hints of a blush on her cheeks, though that may have just been the light and insomnia playing tricks on Bonnibel's eyes. "After that whole fiasco Jake just played BMO, a good cushion or two away from Finn, until the kid went lights out. Then Jake carried him up to his sleeping bag and went to bed himself. Then I did. I woke up at dawn and they're sleeping like babies. Now I'm here. There's your lowdown on how well the little guy is slipping back into his old life. Like slipping on a glove, I'd say." The cold sarcasm in her tone was like a punch in the face.

"Marceline..." Bonnibel held out a hand and rested in on Marceline's tense shoulder. She felt it relax a bit to her touch.

"I know, I'm sorry." Marceline waved her friend away and put some space between them. "It's just that thing with Jake really weirded me out."

Bonnie nodded, understanding completely. To think that Finn would try something like that...and to his _best friend. _

_No, that isn't Finn. The real Finn wouldn't do something like that. _

She shuddered at the thought all the same and forced it out of her mind. "So I'm still wracking my brain over how we're gonna present Finn to the rest of the world," she explained, quick to change the subject. "Over here is a compilation of different methods we may conduct that can definitely help Finn ease back into the swing of things." Bonnie walked to her work table, pushing away her untouched lunch of now-cold tomato soup and gathered in her hands a thin stack of papers. "You may not like this Marcy, but I fear that your plan is just too risky to pull off. Maybe, with a little time and a lot of luck, word of mouth around the Fire Kingdom will simply fade out like all rumors do. This could buy us some more time to help Finn-"

"Bon."

"What?" That look. She was giving that look _again. _"What? Why are you staring at me? What's with the look?"

Suddenly Marceline was chuckling rather low and curtly. Floating on her back and slowly drifting to the window, she clapped her hands together with an unsettling sense of finality. "Forget it. It's nothing," she said. You'd have to be a moron to think she meant it. But Bonnie knew better than to pry with Marceline. "Look, I'm heading out. I'll catch you later."

And before Bonnibel could open her mouth to protest her friend had vanished from sight, likely invisible now and quietly making her way out the window and exiting the kingdom under the shadows of the buildings. _Let her have her doubts, _Bubblegum thought, fists tightening. _Finn just needs time. That's all he needs, is time and readjustment. It'll be okay..._

With Marceline's inane plots well and out of her mind, Bonnie was already beginning to churn out ways to keep Finn hidden away without the rest of the world making a premature revelation. Bonnibel strode back to her chalkboard, gazing upon the white scribbles detailing the many ideas and their primarily unacceptable results - results that almost always ended with disaster - that she and her friend pin-balled the day prior. A disaster, an atrocity, every one of them.

_Surrounding him with the peeps that care about him, _she could almost hear Marceline nag, whispering in the back of her mind.

But that made no sense, she believed. It's a gamble at best, a disaster at worst.

"He needs time," Bonnibel told herself. "That's all it is. _It has to be..._" She suddenly regarded the doomed-plots and party ideas that Marceline suggested with a snarl and disgust. "I'm not risking everything on a gamble." She hooked her fingers underneath her lab table. "Not Finn. I'm not betting Finn on a _Globbing_ _gamble!_" Fueled by her own pride and at-times unruly ire, Bonnie flung the table over, sending books and beakers and paper stacks and her untouched lunch of tomato soup crashing and spilling to the ground. The sound will undoubtedly beckon Peppermint Butler. The princess slumped herself against the wall and sluggishly slid down to her butt, awaiting his inevitable coming.

When Peppermint Butler came before a minute's end, he gave a squeaky gasp at the mess his ruler, caretaker, mother and boss and dearest friend had made. "Oh, my! Princess!" The mint candy waddled his way across the dim-lit laboratory, stepping carefully over the spill of chemicals-and-soup-mixture so as to not get his nice polished loafers soiled.

"Peebles?" Peps knelt down beside his seated ruler and rested on her shoulder a glossy-red hand. He just took in the fact that the princess hasn't acknowledged his presence apart from her rather unsettling dead-eyed stare. Bonnie of course had no aim in disturbing the butler, rather it was a side effect she always had when debating on whether or not she should spill her guts out right there or keep it all gummed up inside. The light affection Peps squeezed her shoulder with decided the battle.

"Peps, can I ask you something...off the record?" she asked.

Peppermint Butler smirked, as if it weren't a serious question. "Of course, Prubs. Is it my cooking? I asked _Chet _not to leave the tomato soup covered, but he would hear none of it. Or..." His face took a darker turn, which could only mean one thing: "Or does this concern my...nocturnal activities?"

The idea that "off the record" to Peps referred to his cooking abilities (and his ignorance to the fact that his escapades in the darker arts were universally known) actually made a little smile tug at her lips and lighten her heart. Bonnie removed the glasses she used for her "far-farsightedness" when conducting labwork; it made Peps's face blurred and distorted, which for some reason made it easier for her to ask what she needed to ask:

"Peps..." she started, already showing a rare weakness that only ever came out in front of close friends, "...what are your honest thoughts about the situation with Finn? And please, don't say anything to try and please me or that'll only make me mad. I want complete and total honesty."

Peppermint Butler gave his princess the longest and darkest of stares before forging a response - one that would undoubtedly make her upset if worded poorly, she knew for sure. "Princess," he finally said, sighing heavily, "if you wanted complete and total honesty, you should have gone to the Fire Kingdom."

_That's his way of saying I need to just spill the beans to the rest of the world. _It took every good sense in Bonnie's mind not to act rash and sock him one in the eye. "I'm not asking what you think I should do, Peps," she worded slowly. "I'm asking how you _feel._"

"How I feel?" Peppermint Butler hesitated, and rightly so; very rarely had Bonnie ever outright asked him how he truly felt about a particular situation. Now being faced with such clearly took the mint candy aback as much as it did perplex him, but he knew the princess long enough to never question her drive. When beginning his rebuttal, Peps took his hand off her shoulder and began to fondle with both as though he were washing his hands without any water. "Princess Bubblegum...I know that this is a hard time for you. And I know that what I am about to say will be the last thing you want to hear. But if you truly desire my council, then heed my words: let it go."

He froze, awaiting what he expected to be an immediate countercharge but the princess only gave him a hollow stare.

"Let it go," he said again. "I want Finn back as much as you do, believe me. But coddling him and treating him like one of your old dollies is just...I don't feel it's natural. If others knew, I think, they might feel the same and may even go as far as to try and _stop_ you. Me? From what I've seen of him (which granted, is very little), Finn looks to me like he's too far-gone to help now. I'd just let nature take its course, let him find his own way out of the darkness. That's what you did nine-hundred years ago, or so you've told me."

Bubblegum had no interest in delving back to her early days wandering the post-Mushroom War Earth, reading torn science books by candlelight and hiding from starving animals in bombed-out buildings. _But I didn't have any friends to turn to, _she wanted to say, but Bonnie wanted to end the conversation there. "Thank you, Peps." Her voice implied that she was everything but grateful for her servant's council, but he said nothing if he actually caught that. "I think I'll...clean myself up, clear my head a little. You can call the others in and tidy this place up."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Peppermint Butler did a mock salute and ran off to fetch the cleaning crew. The princess lingered in her lab a bit longer, mulling over her friend's words.

_But are we doing it right? _nagged that annoying moral compass of hers. _Is there really no other way? Are we so desperate that we dress Finn up in his old clothes, feed him his favorite foods in hope of a positive reaction?_

"No." Bubblegum pummeled her fist into her open palm. "Marceline may doubt me, Peps may think it's a lost cause, but my way is the best way. I know it is." She reached into one of the deep pockets of her lab coat, and tossed into the overflowing trash can a crumpled flyer for the Princess Potluck. _  
_

_Not going to that I suppose, _she thought with cold indifference. _I've never liked that romp anyhow. _

* * *

**Jake **

The day after that whole awkward fiasco was generally quiet from dawn to dusk. Finn and Jake slept soundly until well past sunrise, an hour before lunchtime. When Jake first cracked his eyes open he found his brother lying awake on top of his sleeping bag, still in his casual wear from yesterday. The sight disheartened him only for a second when he remembered that that's how he put him to bed the night prior.

Jack balled himself up in his little drawer-space, smiling at the boy. Somehow the boy knew he was being watched, and quickly sat up, almost too suddenly and too readily that it managed to give Jake a start. "Heh, morning bro," he said, shrugging it off. "Sleep good?"

Finn pulled his legs in so he sat criss-cross. "I had...a comfortable sleep, Mister Jake." He shivered a little, despite the air in their bedroom being quite balmy. "Truly, I did," he said, in case Jake didn't believe him.

Though Jake tried his hardest to forget, to just make a fist with his brain and punch out any negative thoughts, he just could not forget what happened last night. It didn't stir his guts up as bad as last night, no, but there was still that uncomfortable lurch he got when recalling how ready his brother was to do..._whatever _he was ready to do. Suddenly Jake found himself sorely missing Finn's once-boundless energy. _Will I ever hear you laugh again, bro? _

Apparently Finn saw Jake's sudden falter in his beaming face, and asked, "Are you alright, Mister Jake?" The question sounded almost robotic coming out of the boy's mouth, like he was programmed to say that (and that wouldn't be too far from the reality actually).

"Yeah, I'm fine, man," he replied, waving it off. Quickly Jake's mind raced to think of something to forget that awkward night. But what he promptly considered as a change of subject would not ease that in the slightest: "Say man," he asked, "you feel like a bath?"

Behind his cage of golden bars, Finn's eyes narrowed. "A...bath?" The concept sounded completely foreign to him, and only then did his brother suddenly remember that Finn was only bathed while he was still unconscious.

Jake was quick to palm himself, both mentally and physically. "Aw geez..." he grumbled, rubbing down his forehead hard.

He felt that he had to act quickly to stop this from getting any more awkward (if that was possible). "Look man," Jake forced himself to say, "you're a free man now, and part of being a free man means having to take care of yourself in the bathroom. You gotta clean yourself, do your business, brush your teeth..." At the mention of his yellowed ruin Finn made it a discreet-but-obvious effort to run his tongue along said teeth. Jake suddenly felt guilty for saying that. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

He thought not: Finn held his tongue for a while, no doubt trying to decipher whether or not this was some kind of trick, all the while sucking on his own teeth. Jake, though it was very hard to do so, forced himself to be patient for his brother until at last Finn self-consciously buried his mouth into his knobbly pale knees and shook his head 'no'.

"You want to be dirty?" Jake asked, straining to keep himself from sounding aggressive.

Finn began to tremble like a startled rabbit. "I want to please." He sounded like some shadowy assassin had a knife at his throat. "I'm Funn and nothing but. I'm not good enough to be clean."

_Good enough? _A fire rose up in Jake's belly, and he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to for what would come next. "Bull-gunk, Finn! Stop treating yourself like you're nothing but dirt!"

He didn't mean to frighten the boy. He really, truly didn't. But he wanted so bad for Finn to understand. Sadly, that day may not be coming any time soon, for Finn just started nodding like mad and saying, "Yes, Master! Yes, Master!" His hand moved to conceal the tears welling in his eyes.

Jake sighed. _I feel like I'm twenty years older. _Then his thoughts turned a tad bitter. _Where the heck is PB and Marcy!? _Then he suddenly remembered that Peebles had her hands full with the Fire Kingdom, most like, and who knows what Marceline was up to. Jake sighed upon realizing that he was all alone, at least for the moment, and he found himself wishing he was at Lady's with the kids and not a care in the world.

But that was just petty fantasy, and his bro was real and his bro needed him now more than ever.

Jake wordlessly stretched his legs across the room, bringing himself face to face with Finn as he wrapped his arms around the boy's figure like he'd lasso a criminal. Finn did nothing to resist as Jake carried him over his head, into the bathroom, and set him on the edge of the tub. While the bath was filling with hot water, Jake had the displeasure of removing Finn's clothes. He pulled his shorts down him legs, shirt, underwear, all while keeping his eyes on the boy's face to futilely keep it from getting any more awkward. Finn at least had the grace not to point out the flush creeping its way across his brother's face.

_Never thought I'd be helping my bro take a bath, _Jake thought, trying to make light of a truly heartbreaking situation.

Jake had to stuff down his self-loathing to be able to help Finn ease into the tub. A low hiss whistled through the boy's teeth as his scarred torso became submerged. _Grob, there's so many scars. _Jake had no choice but to look at them as he scrubbed his chest, belly, and all the marks they've collected with a soaped washcloth.

The whole time there was this silent tension between the two, and even though Jake made sure the water was nice and warm Finn could not stop shaking. He simply sat there in the tub with his knees tucked under his chin and trembling something awful like they were in the Ice Kingdom. When Jake asked if everything was alright, Finn was quick to reply, "Yes, Mister. Very much, Mister."

As Jake lathered his hair, he told him, "Sorry I snapped at you, bro. I'm just a little stressed out, is all." Only a half-truth, though Finn didn't seem to realize. A stiff little nod was all he could get from him. Jake ran his pruning fingers through the boy's pale-gold locks. They began smelling of tangerines.

Minutes later, Finn finally spoke by his own will when he said, "Mister Jake?"

Jake was hesitant to reply, making sure he actually heard his brother speaking without being spoken to and it wasn't his senility playing tricks on him. "Yeah?" he said dumbly.

Finn licked his gross blistered lips. "I would like to apologize for...what happened the previous night in your home."

A little smile tugged at Jake's lips, mostly from just hearing Finn speak. "Don't worry about it, man. I'd sooner forget about that whole mess."

"No, no, I was unacceptable." He shook his head. Fear played his every word like a harp. "I acted...without your full consent. I was...hasty...to please, I mean, lacking common sense or judgement. I'm...ashamed. But I deserve any punishment you will inflict upon my person..._if you choose to do so._"

Jake suddenly felt elated at his conclusion, for Finn's only been back home for three days now and already he was showing signs of his old self. _It's not much, _thought Jake with a giant mental grin, _but I know my broski when I hear him, and that little 'if you choose to do so' number is definitely a giant leap forward. Fight the instincts, brotha! FIGHT 'EM! _Jake didn't need to be reminded how many times Finn would say he "deserved" to be beaten for the pettiest of reasons, but never before has he presented it as an _option_.

That meant he was starting to think a bit more openly, and thinking openly meant he was making a gradual return to normalcy.

"I think it may be this change of environment," he said, sounding as if Jake actually cared about his reasoning and needed more convincing. "This place is...not what I am accustomed to, and I pray you forgive me if it takes time to adjust." He quickly added, "But I swear my services will be superior than anything your closest lover will provide, tenfold." With that, he went back to muttering into his knees, _"I am Funn, and nothing but. That is all I am and all I ever will be." _

Jake was still smiling as he reached in to drain the tub. _One step at a time, _he told himself, choosing to ignore the boy's mutterings.

Even cleaned and bathed Finn looked about ten years older, with his white, hollowed face and thin hair and those chips of ice sitting in his eye sockets. Jake still made the effort to keep his eyes "up there" when toweling the boy dry. He left Finn sitting on the tub's edge to fetch him a clean pair of clothes. He was still there upon returning.

But when Finn made eye contact, Jake got a shiver and quite a start when he suddenly reached out for the sink with his one hand and, after a bit of an effort, pull himself up. He stood there leaning against the sink, completely immodest of his stark flesh as he gestured to his gaping brother and said, "I can dress myself, Mister Jake."

Jake couldn't help but smile proudly at Finn as he set the clothes down. His brother took a gander at them and looked back at Jake, mirroring an ugly little smile in return.

Jake was making everybody lunch (tuna fish sandwiches, just tuna fish for Finn) when said boy was heard making the slow hobble all by himself down the stairs. "Sorry for keeping you, Mister Jake," he said upon reaching the bottom.

"Don't sweat it bro. Take a seat, we're about to have lunch."

Just in his shorts and t-shirt, Finn waddled across the room on his walking stick and reclaimed his seat on the couch. From there, much of what happened the day before occurred again that afternoon: Jake cleaned and played Card Wars with BMO, Neptr and Shelby while Finn watched with humorless eyes. There wasn't any change in his demeanor at all throughout the day, but Jake for the life of him could not shake the feeling that there was something looking back at him when he spared a glance at his brother. Not in a literal sense (of course there was actually someone looking at him when he did), but he felt a change in Finn's attitude that made him just feel a bit warmer to smile at, icy eyes regardless.

Even if he's just grasping for straws, Jake could at least take in the definite comfort that Finn could take care of himself in the bathroom.

It was late into the evening of the next day when Jake found himself once again the only person awake and playing BMO. Finn was sprawled out at the end of the couch, peacefully asleep, his breathing even and four fingered hand twitching. _Wonder what he's dreaming about, _thought Jake. He sunk back into the couch, controller in hand, and smiled. "It'll be okay," he murmured to himself. "Everything will be okay."

Suddenly he sensed the stillness of the Tree Fort behind him falter, the air all around him stir. He knew who it was before she even opened her mouth. "Guess who?" she sang.

"Marceline." Jake knew just how to push her buttons without even trying.

Carrying the scent of a cold grave wherever she went, the vampire floated down between him and BMO, lying on her stomach atop a bed of air with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "Aw, you're no fun." Marceline pouted like a child. She looked to Finn and smiled a bit when he turned over on his side, with the arm stump. "How's he holding up?" she asked in a whisper.

"I think he's starting to come around," said Jake, measuring his tone with hers. "He still thinks he's lower than dirt, and if you ask him something he turns into kind of a wreck, but he's coming around." Jake's tone was cocksure. Marceline smirked and nodded as he continued, "It's hard to explain, but I just _know _my old bro is there sometimes when he's talking. Maybe I'm crazy. I dunno. It's like a link only two bros can share."

Marceline repositioned herself so that she was kneeling in midair with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her grey hoodie. "Cool. That's cool. Say, have you been letting Finn do his own thing, or made him follow this precise little bullet list of things he used to do?" An odd question. An abrupt question. Jake thought she was joking, but the placid look on her face told him that she probably wasn't. And suddenly he got the notion that this had to do with PB. _Best stay out of that can of worms._

Still, Jake saw no reason to lie. "I've been kinda letting him do his own thing. Most days he sits on the couch, scoping out the scene." Jake let that hang for a minute, and quickly added when he saw Marceline's brows slant, "I'd like to think that Finn is learning something from watching me and the guys horse around and _not _just sitting around like a lump waiting for an 'order' or whatever, but...I dunno. I'm kinda taking it slow."

"Oh." You'd have to be deaf to hear the disappointment in Marcy's tone. "No," she said quickly, "no, that's fine. That's good, even! It's just...stupid Bonnie thinks Finn should stay locked up in here and treated like everything is okay, you're just letting him do whatever, which, frankly Jake, won't get him anywhere...Bleh. This whole thing is nuts." Sighing, Marceline cupped her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. They were red, redder than usual. As she started fumbling around for something in her pockets, she said, "Look, I'm not here just to check up Finn. There's something I wanted to try."

Jake's stare dropped to her hand drawing a little sack from her sweater pocket. "And what would that be, Mrs. Abadeer?"

Jake actually got chills from the devilish smirk that played across Marceline's lips right there. He has known the Vampire Queen long enough to know that this meant nothing good. "This," she said, opening the sack.

A look inside, and Jake saw a familiar gold powder. "Is that...?"

She nodded. "Yep. Sleep Powder." The hair's on the back of his neck stood on ends when Marceline told him, "We're going inside Finn's memories."

* * *

**I am EXTREMELY, profusely sorry for keeping you guys waiting for two weeks, only to get a chapter where hardly anything happens aside from filler. I wanted to include the dreamscaping bit, but this chapter would have been insanely long. I'll try and pump that bit out as quick as I can. Again, I'm sorry. **

**All that aside, as I was finishing up this chapter I just started thinking about if this story had a theme song, then what would it be. I feel that Bryan Adams's song 'Everything I Do I Do It For You' would fit this story really well. It's somber, and even though it's primarily a love song I feel that it captures what Finn means to all of his friends, and what they're all going through to get him back. Think of it like a flip-flop with his song in 'What Was Missing'.**


	8. Dreamscaping

**I genuinely care about my readers. This chapter is likely the darkest this story will get. While it doesn't include graphic scenes in EXPLICIT detail (detail that would warrant an M Rating), I fear that some may find the events, implications and minor graphic detail disturbing. If you are one of those people, notify me, and I will be more than happy to give you a synopsis of the chapter in a Private Message.**

**Enjoy reading, if you can. **

* * *

**Marceline**

Marceline dumped the contents of the sack into her open palm. It glittered pale in the light of BMO's screen. Jake looked upon the Sleep Powder like it was made from actual gold. "Where'd you get that?" he asked in awe.

"I stomped on Ash's balls till he gave me some."

"Heh-heh-heh. Nice." Jake looked up to see if Marceline found it as amusing. She didn't. He rubbed the back of his neck. "So, uh, what's the plan?"

Marceline sat down beside Jake and grabbed him by the wrist; she could feel the skin beneath his fur prickle to the touch. As she did she explained, "We're going inside Finn's memories to see if there's something we can do to help him."

"Like what?" Jake asked as she shook a bit of the Sleep Powder into his open palm.

Marceline tossed the bag and watched it land beside BMO. "I really don't know. I want to see if we can ease his pain by messing around with his memories. Or at the very least we'll learn more about what he went through, see if there's something we can work off of. Sounds like a plan?"

Jake nodded slowly. No doubt he was thinking this was either the best idea in the world or the worst. Marceline understood completely; even she doubted that anything truly good or progressive in Finn's recovery would come of this, but she felt the effort was worth it all the same. "Yeah," Jake suddenly said. "Let's do it. BMO?"

At the mention of his name the side-scroller that was in pause flickered back to the little robot's ever-smiling face. "I hear you, Jake. If anyone tries to wake up Finn, I will hurt them." He pounded his little fist into an open palm. Marceline smirked a bit; she always found BMO as a whole to be kind of surreal, but in a cute way. Though she doubted he can do anything if someone actually came to try and hurt Finn.

When Marceline opened her mouth to speak, a sudden fear blurted from Jake's mouth. "Wait," he said, "last time we got sent back to reality after we found the memory Ash was looking for. How would we get out when we don't even have a clear goal?"

Marceline frowned. She really hadn't thought that far. "We'll wait for him to wake up," she said, making sure to sound like that that was her plan all along. Jake looked at her, doubtful. "It's kind of the only thing we _can_ do."

But one look at Jake told her he wasn't buying it. And for a moment, Marceline thought that Jake wouldn't want to take the risk. But she underestimated his dedication for the first of many times in the coming weeks when Jake (reluctantly) sprinkled the Sleep Powder over his noggin. Marceline grinned wolfishly at the dog's devotion and did the same. Her neck went limp, eyelids heavy as sin, and Marceline's last sight was of the sleeping tortured boy, his one "whole" arm hanging stiff from under him and closed eyes flitting about underneath their lids.

_He's having a nightmare, _remarked the sleepy vampire. She made a tired chuckle at the irony of it all before her whole world went dark.

* * *

"Hey! Marcy! Wake up!" The vampire groaned, cracked her eyes open, smacked her lips and shoved the dog jostling her shoulder.

She knuckled the sleep from her eyes as the world around her began to clarify and take color. "Mrn, where are we Jake?" Wherever they were, it filled Marceline's lungs with the smell of incense and made her want to gag.

Jake had about as much of a clue as she did. "Heck if I know." He stood up with his back to her and gazed hungrily upon the rich crimson wall. "Got some nice booty hung up around here. You think I could snag some?"

If only he could; hung all around and glimmering in dim torchlight were treasures and wealth that an ex-petty thief like Jake would sever his hand just to touch: plates made from solid gold, swords of ancient kingdoms that Marceline once knew that have long since been destroyed, paintings depicting lewd acts but without a doubt worth a fortune. Marceline herself got a grumbling belly at the sight of so much red. Whatever paint they used was of the highest quality, giving off this glossy glare wherever the torchlight kissed.

But there was something niggling at Jake's thoughts that he just couldn't seem to kick. "Something about this looks familiar," he muttered, and just a second later it came to him: "This is Moonlight Keep!" he said with a snap of his fingers. "This is where that creepy Master guy had Finn!"

As horrible as that was, it was only natural for Marceline to fine something humorous about the situation. "And how would you know that?" she asked, knowing the obvious answer.

Jake tapped his fingers together like a scolded child. "Uh, I may or may not have snagged a couple of these gold plates...But forget that! I don't even know where we are. It looks a bit different. Probably another part of a castle."

"Well," said Marceline, looking around, "we're in some kind of hallway. I guess I'll go down this way and you go the other way."

Neither of them advanced three feet before Marceline saw the silhouettes of two people from her end about to round the corner. One of them had the footfalls of an elephant, and was extremely bulky. "Someone's coming," she hissed, followed by an "Oh snap!" from Jake.

Marceline had no idea why the two of them got such a start (as the shades of the past regarded dreamscapers as one would a fly, and phased right through them like ghosts if they blocked the way). When reflecting later that same night on the horrors she had witnessed, Marceline surmised it was just her natural instincts screaming for her to hide. But she wasn't thinking clearly at the time, and both she and Jake went out of sight as soon as they heard the footfalls rounding the corner; Marceline turned invisible while the dog molded himself into one of the gold plates hanging on the wall.

Both muffled a gasp with their hands at who they saw. One of them, taking the rear, was the burly figure of a blue-skinned Marauder - he had a fat pink nose, and all around his head was hair like a lion's mane: a sandy-brown color, shaggy and splayed out. The boy he led was their Finn. On mutilated feet with jet-black soles he shuffled and limped his way down the hall with a rope around his neck, clenched in the Marauder's beefy fist. He wore only shorts for clothing, letting the whole world see every scar and laceration that marked his tiny body, most going deep and dark with few faint and pale. The stump he had for a right arm still had its flower, albeit it was shriveled and brown. His face displayed a constant terror - a nervous grin of broken teeth paired with icy-blue eyes that whizzed here and there like flies.

The Marauder grinned wide all of a sudden, his teeth yellow and splotched brown - a different kind of ugly than Finn's, but hideous all the same. "C'mon, Funn," he said in the deep voice of Roughhousing Marauders. "Let's see if yer worth th' two-thousand gold pieces yer Master made me scrape t'gedder."

"I am yours, Sire," squeaked the boy. "Do with me as you please."

"Aye, I will!" he laughed. "And don't think I've fergotten about how ye destroyed our old village to make room an' wood fer yer lil' fire girlfriend. There were _generations_ that have reaped that land! Legends! And you tore it down just because we moved camp..."

Finn's breathing became short, quick, _scared. _"I am sorry for that," he mumbled. "I deserve everything that has happened to me." The pair ambled past where Marceline and Jake hid; they watched on with glossy eyes, hearing the sniffles of a crying boy. Marceline's pointed ears caught the patter of tears plopping on the carpet.

His 'client' showed no sympathy. "Aye, it's good knowing ye regret what happened, that's true. But don't go thinkin' that yer outta th' woods, boy. I'm gonna make ye _scream_ tonight." He burst into a coarse bout of laughter. "Maybe yer fire gilfriend'll hear us all the way from her comfy seat in th' Fire Kingdom! _Har!_"

The two of them disappeared around another corner at the end of the hall. Jake and Marceline came out of hiding, the gloss of their eyes shimmering in the torchlight. How long they stood in choked silence, neither could really say. But Marceline was the one who came to her senses first, after a spell. "Come on Jake," she croaked. "We won't get anything out of just standing here. And torturing ourselves by watching stuff we already know won't do us any good." She grabbed him by the wrist and floated towards where Finn and the Marauder came in, praying to the Four that whatever memory lied next would tell them something that could help their friend.

When she neared the corner, Marceline glanced back and saw Jake still staring down the corridor with his arm stretching its length to where she hovered, clutching his limp wrist. Marceline felt a stake drive through her long-dead heart at the sight of him. "Jake?" she said. "Are you...okay?" She was met with silence.

_Of course he's not okay, _the logical part of her brain hissed. _He just saw his best friend being led to do Glob-knows-what to that freak! _She didn't doubt Jake knew this was not the only time Finn had to go through something like this. Thinking that made her feel worse.

Jake never told her whether or not he was okay. But a moment later he turned and began to shuffle his way down the hall. Everything about him, the way he stared and moved and even breathed and spoke a long time after just lacked the same fervor and energy Marceline was used to. She did her best to ignore it, but the obvious just ate her guts: _I should have never brought him in here. _

She suddenly felt something latch on to her own wrist. Marceline looked down and saw Jake, looking up at her with a sad smile with his paw wrapped around her pallid forearm. She gave his a reassuring squeeze, and together they bent around the corner.

Jake and Marceline walked into what could only be another memory. As per usual with Memory Hopping, the transition from the previous event to the next was sudden, and awkward. This was no exception, as upon rounding the corner they found themselves in a damp room, black as pitch if it wasn't for one of its occupants wielding a torch - no - a _fireball _that bobbed and flickered in his bony palm. Marceline glanced over her shoulder; the corridor behind them was gone, now just a wall of cold brick.

She saw Finn's silhouette strung upon the wall, shackles a dull iron that shone dark in the firelight and bound his bloody fist high above his head. His body hung just high enough so that his rear never touched the ground. That alone, Marceline shuddered to think, must have been unbearable.

"Boy, wake up," croaked the man with the fireball. His voice was like coarse sandpaper on the ears. Marceline couldn't see his face, as it was shrouded in a faded cloak, but she could see flecks of red eyes and a smile of gnarly sharp teeth. "Come now, boy. Wakey wakey."

He waved the fireball in front of Finn's face. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes bloodshot and baggy and his hair thin and brittle as straw. The boy stirred. "Tha's...my name," he mumbled.

The hooded man cackled. "What was that, boy?"

"My name..." he breathed, "...Finn the Human."

A callous chuckle. "Even after all this time, you're still playing that piper's song." Marceline saw a flash of silver draw from the man's baggy sleeve. His lanky body crouched down in front of Finn and pressed the sharp end of a knife against his cheek. Finn showed no reaction to it. "I don't think that's your name," he said.

Finn looked up, wet blue eyes meeting red. "Yes...it is." His voice sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Out of anger the man lashed the blade across his face. Finn let out a rather weak cry, one that would certainly be louder if he had the strength for it. Red seeped down his cheek. "No, you don't really look like Finn the Human. Not anymore. Finn the Human is a hero, strong and noble and loved by all." He wiped the bloodied knife on the sleeve of his cloak as he spoke. "No, I don't think you're Finn. Not anymore."

The boy opened his mouth, releasing what sounded like a choked sob. "Please...let me go," he begged.

"Let you go?" he echoed, blade retreating up his sleeve. A cackle, and the cloaked man moved closer to Finn so that their chests almost pressed together. He held the fireball hand out beside them and latched his other around Finn's shoulder. "You want me to let you go?" The boy nodded weakly. "Finn, you've been our guest for only three months! My heart will simply _break _if you aren't enjoying your stay." _  
_

He whispered something.

"Eh?"

The boy said it a little louder; Marceline couldn't hear but she was willing to bet the hooded man did and was just tormenting Finn. "Speak up," he said excitedly. "I can't hear very well!"

"Let me go!" the boy cried. "Let me go let me go _let me_ _go!_" He collapsed into a series of violent coughs that wracked his scrawny body._ "_Or just kill me now, please..._please..."_

His words haunted Marceline's ears, a broken record stuck in a loop she couldn't stop.

Even the man seemed taken aback: his jagged smile turned upside-down. "Well, he did it. Master's finally broken you." The man almost sounded sad; anyone would be willing to bet it was because his sick games were finally over. "No, no, no," he purred lowly, smile returning gradually as he did. "No, you're definitely not Finn the Human anymore. He's far better than whatever you're supposed to be now. You're just...a frightened pup. A fun broken toy for sick men like me." The man gasped and pat Finn on the back. "Funn! That's your name now! Funn! Say it."

Finn looked him in the eyes, baring full a set of yellow teeth. "Finn the Human," he growled.

The hooded man shot up, peering down at the boy with disgust. The fireball now remained hovering beside his shoulder. "Say your name," he hissed.

"Finn the Human." Tears made tracks through his freshly blooded cheek. A foot smacked wet and hard into Finn's hollow gut. The sound of dry-heaving rattled throughout the chamber.

"'Funn'! Say your name, boy!"

Despite knowing how this would end, Marceline could not deny being impressed and even proud of Finn, even after everything he's been through, still trying to resist. _"Finn...the Human," _he croaked as loud as his fatigued little person was able.

The hooded man made a noise that sounded a bestial snarl. He paced across the dungeon and picked up something heavy, like it was made from the stone of the dungeon they were in. He returned to Finn and his little fireball, grasping a sledgehammer in his two hands. "What is your name?" he asked.

Finn was looking down at his own severed toes. "Finn," he whimpered. "Finn the Human."

Marceline squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand over Jake's before the sledgehammer made contact, but closed eyes did nothing to block out the horrifying screams of their friend, muffled with a mouthful of tooth shards and warm blood. His pained, groggy cries quelled the massive _thud _that marked the sledgehammer being tossed aside.

The cloaked figure swooped down low and harshly grasped Finn's face within his gnarled claws. "Tell me your name, or I'll slice your lying tongue off!"he screamed.

Finn's whimpered groans never ceased. Bits of teeth and dark red dribbled down his chin and onto his chest when he tried to speak. But when he did, it sounded hardly human. "Funn..." he muttered slowly. "Mah name...ith Funn..."

The man stood. "Good." He clasped his hands together. "And what else are you?"

Finn took a long time to answer. He coughed a little, spurting his mouthful all over himself and making Marceline want to throw up. "No...Nothing," he said.

"Exactly. You are Funn, and nothing but." He let out a sigh that trailed off into a repulsive purring sound. Marceline balled her hand into a fist, so hard she did that she felt her nails digging into her palm and piercing skin, yet no blood was drawn from her long-dead veins. "And when will you cease being fun, Funn?" The man cackled at his own joke.

It took great effort but Finn managed to lift his eyes and meet the hooded figure's; they were big and shimmering in the firelight. A forlorn tooth slipped out and stuck to his bloody chin. "Until I die," he squeaked.

"Until you die." With a snap of his fingers, the fireball went out. Immediately Finn collapsed into a silent cry. Marceline could see his shrouded body convulse with every sob and sniffle. "Don't be sad, Funn," said the man, from everywhere and nowhere. "I'll be back tomorrow. And every day after to remind you what you are." The man retreated to the dungeon door, a swift shadow in the dark. Light poured into the room, brighter than the sun it was and heralded with a creak as loud as a war horn. In fact, it started sounding just like a war horn.

Marceline and Jake never had a chance to reflect on what they had witnessed (and perhaps that is for the best), as the two of them opened their eyes to find themselves in what looked to be an outdoor arena. The sun was hot, sweltering even, but thankfully did not burn the vampire's skin for this was just a memory.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking to and fro. Jake did not answer, for it was obvious where they were just by getting a sense of their bearings. Seated all around were droves of people that varied greatly from different shapes and sizes, some being creatures Marceline has actually never seen before in her life.

How many different kingdoms or splinter bands and tribes joined to make this mass assembly, she could never guess. It looked as though a thousand people had come to see this show, so tightly packed they were that so much as raising an arm proved impossible without elbowing a neighbor. There were blue-skinned knights waving their swords in the air, Roughhousing Marauders with their warlike roars, and three-eyed felines and Why-wolves, looking as businesslike as they did savage, a small colony of Worms seated beneath Master's shaded platform to hide from the brutal sun, at least three score of anthropomorphic creatures gated off in their own wild section, and that in itself included bears and foxes and manticores and even a full-grown dragon, just to name a few. And for every monster that Marceline found to be alien, she counted at least a dozen Wildberry People, Lemon Children, Candy People, Slime People, both Fire and Water Elementals and so many more. Even a Rainicorn or two could be pointed out in the gatherings. Every one of them looked froth with rage and hungry for blood.

The portcullis on one side of the stadium lifted, and the patrons wasted no time in hollering a thousand insults at the blond-haired boy shuffling his way across the sandy arena.

"Is that Finn?" Jake asked, clearly struggling to ignore the mockery around them.

It was, Marceline saw, and he still had all of his digits, as his left hand clenched tightly around the grip of a polished steel longsword that blinded any who looked directly at its blade. Around his pallid face his hair fell round, golden and full but clearly greasy under the ruthless sun baking the sand beneath his bare feet. Marceline could see his discomfort in walking over such an environment, with the limp in his step and glowing of his soles.

Insults and derogatory remarks continued to barrage the poor kid, despite appearing unfazed to every one of them:

"You're dead, hero!"

"I'm gonna make you mine, hero!"

"We're gonna see you bleed!"

"I hope you cry for your dead mama!"

Jake's hands squeezed into tight little fists, forearms bulging with veins. His breathing became heavy, angry. Marceline heard it clear as day amidst all the noise and chaos around them. "What the heck is this?" he snarled, sounding far more angry than he did confused.

Marceline shrugged, wondering the same. "It looks like he's about to fight someone." That much was obvious, as across from where Finn stood an iron-barred gate similar to the one he came in from. The question however was not a matter of _what, _but _why._

Jake looked about ready to leap from the standings and punch Master's lights out all over again, he looked so furious. Marceline thought about comforting him, placing a hand on his shoulder or something like that, but a voice boomed across the coliseum, hushing the crowd immediately and bringing her thoughts back to that poor little boy in the pit.

"Hey guys," Master began, sounding as pleasant as ever, "centuries ago, on a day much like today, the original Master's Cretins asked themselves a question: who is truly the victim here? Is it the spurned, the angry and the loathsome, who joined together and formed a brotherhood under a common idea? Or is it those witless vagabonds, the heroes, the one they named Billy, whom at the time has been their prisoner for approximately twenty nights? To answer such a weighty question, one must look to the Four for their wisdom. And the Four said, 'Let there be battle! Allow us to lend our strength to the sword of he who deserves it!' Here we find ourselves, generations later and asking the same question. Twenty days have passed since we've taken this boy, and now today may be the day he finally earns his freedom. Finn the Human?" The boy straightened up, chin raised to the Master sitting in his shaded platform. "Today, in the eyes of your fellow men, you are fighting to earn your freedom. If the Four deems it just, this could be the day you leave our company. Lose, and you will remain our prisoner for however long we see fit. Do you accept these terms?"

"I do!" the boy cried hoarsely. The roar of the crowd was deafening.

"This is totally bunked," Jake hissed to Marceline. "He's had prepping before this; there's no way Finn is just being shoved out here to cut down some random stranger."

Marceline grunted, agreeing. Though she was more interested in who the boy would be fighting. What if they were making Finn fight someone who had no right to die, like some hapless traveler these 'Cretins' picked off like they did with Finn, twenty days ago. They could even have made him try and cut down a toddler, knowing how sick and depraved these villains were. That's the likeliest of scenario's in Marceline's mind, since Finn was held here for weeks thereafter. It's funny, she thought, knowing full well how this will end and still feeling a tightness in her chest for what her friend was about to go through.

After the crowd's yells dwindled, Master pulled a lever with his tail, all smiles. "Without further ado, Finn, I bring you your opponent!" The portcullis on the other side of the arena rose; Finn spread his legs, ready for battle. From the tunnel's darkness, an enormous mass stomped into the light. "I hope you're ready Finn," Master said, "for today you must slay..._the Lich!_"

_"What the nuts!?" _Jake and Marceline cried. They had no idea who Master was trying to fool, but even the deaf and blind Tart Toter would tell you that that is not the Lich. The Lich doesn't have pinkish skin, nor arms thick as a bull's neck. He doesn't have long blond hair, and he doesn't wear a tattered purple dress that tightly hugs his curvy figure.

"Susan Strong," Jake breathed, eyes wide open. "I...I heard that Beautopia went quiet, but I thought the Hyoomans were just moving shop. I never would have thought...oh _Grob._"

The large woman flinched at the roar of the audience; they caught on the act, they saw clear as day it wasn't the Lich and they _laughed. _Sadly the same couldn't be said for Finn.

"Lich?!" shrieked the boy, looking just as surprised as Susan. "How did you get your powers back?"

"Finn?" Susan clutched the grip of her own curved scimitar like it was a teddy bear, blade dangerously close to cutting her messy blonde hair. "Finn! It's Susan!" She waved her arms, as though Finn couldn't see her from across the sandlot.

Finn would have none of it. "Enough, Lich! It's high time you and I fought, one on one. No magic, or any of that bizz!"

As horrible as this situation was, a small reserved part of Marceline's thoughts were strangely elated to hear the old Finn again. Yet whatever she was feeling shattered into nothing when her thoughts returned to the matter at hand.

As the boy stepped closer, snarling and spitting and twirling his longsword in hand, Susan Strong gasped. "Finn!" she cried. "Your Hero Heart! It's poisoned - "

"Enough talk!" Finn roared. He lurched forward.

You didn't need a scientist to tell you that Susan never had a chance, as Hyoomans were famous for their lack of fighting skill, even someone as hardy as she. With a cry of fear, probably just by complete reflex, her scimitar came swooping down, a silver blur to take Finn's head off. He smacked it aside with a metallic twang and swiped at her calf as he passed, all without breaking a sweat. Susan fell back, screaming like a dying horse as her meaty calf spurted blood.

A single hop and Finn was on top of her, longsword raised over his head. As Susan brought her arm up to protect her face, Finn hacked down with all his fifteen-year-old strength and took it off between the wrist and elbow like she was made of cheese. The woman howled and screamed in her unintelligible Hyooman language.

"No, no, NO!" Jake squeezed his eyes shut.

Above the roars of approval, and the few of disdain, Master chuckled. "Well that was easy!" he said, then, "Finn?" At the mention of his name, Finn looked up at his Master, ignoring the thrashing mass beneath him. "I don't think the Lich is quite dead yet, and we've _all _heard tales of your great strength and _skill_ in cracking skulls. Heh, give us a demonstration? Prove to us that they are true! _Crack his skull!" _His entire person glowered an ugly color.

The other Cretins took up his cry like a fish to water, and soon they were all chanting at the boy: _"Crack his skull! Crack his skull!"_

Almost robotically Finn cast aside his blood-spattered longsword and took a seat on Susan's broad belly. "Finn..." she groaned.

"I'm good at cracking skulls," he said, hand moving to Susan's face.

Marceline, and even Jake, clearly, wanted to look away. She wanted that so badly. But for sick reasons even she didn't understand, her eyes refused to do so. And so she and the dog watched on in complete horror, her skin paler than curdled milk, as Finn shoved his thumb into Susan's groaning mouth and pushed two fingers into her eyes. The scream was bloodcurdling. Finn pushed deeper, heaving his full body weight into her face. "I'm good at cracking skulls!" he screamed over Susan's howls.

_"Crack his skull!" _the crowd persisted. _"Crack his skull!"_

Susan slammed her feet and remaining palm into the sand, kicking the stuff up everywhere and shrouding her and Finn in a thin veil of dust. He pushed harder, face twisted into a look of strain with sweat pouring over his brow. "I'm good...at cracking _skulls!" _he insisted.

"I don't think you are, Finn!" Master jeered. His aura grew brighter.

_"Crack his skull! Crack his skull!" _

"No Finn! DON'T!" Jake cried, knowing it was hopeless.

_C-CRACK_

Susan's screams turned into mangled, bestial cries. Finn gave one final heave, yelling at the top of his little boy lungs, "_I'm good at cracking skulls! LIKE. THIS." _There was a sickening _crunch, _like a thousand branches being smashed into splinters. Blood erupted in every which way, appearing to smoke and sizzle wherever it seeped into the hot sand. The crowd roared. Marceline allowed herself a shrill gasp, and Jake collapsed to his knees retching up his lunch of tuna fish sandwiches, and the peppers and eggs he had for breakfast.

"It seems like this bear _does_ have claws!" they hears a knight behind them jest.

Master was all so very pleased. "Very good, Finn!" His aura vanished. "However, I'm sorry to say that you still lost. You didn't kill the Lich!" The crowd erupted into a tidal wave of laughter.

Finn blinked once. Twice. Three times. He gazed about the audience, and then at his hand, his blood-soaked hand. He gazed past it, and saw the ruin that had once been his friend Susan Strong. Grief contorted his face, and stiffly Finn collapsed to his knees, hand moving across Susan's bloodstained dress. He let out a scream, a roaring howl that overcame every one in the audience. Whether it was out of anguish, or out of despair, it did not matter. He yelled so loud that the heart-wrenching sight before Jake and Marceline shattered like glass. The memory was over.

The world came back together as quick as a blink, and Jake and Marceline were both relieved and heartbroken to find that they were at the end of the line. Relieved, because the nightmare was finally over. Heartbroken, for the final memory was one Marceline herself did not want to relive.

On top of a cliff, with the sun dipping behind the rolling hillocks, sat three friends. Marceline Abadeer wore an easy smile, clutching her black umbrella to protect her from the sun's rays. Jake was on her left, telling some joke neither could hear nor the laughter from the trio that followed up the punchline. At her right sat Finn, criss-crossed and whole, aside from his missing right arm. His smile was pure white, his eyes a deeper blue than the ocean, hair tucked away under his iconic cap. Everything to them was muffled, from the crashing waves foaming and guttering at the cliff's base to the story Finn was excitedly regaling and the mocking way Marceline pretended to fall asleep.

"No..." the dreamscaping Marceline whispered. She slammed her hands against her ears, despite the present lack of sound. _This is what I get, _she told herself.

Even through her hands, when Marceline saw Finn stand she could hear his words as though she were right there next to him: "I'm gonna go explore a little bit. I'll be back in five."

Marceline says with a wave of her hand, "'Kay, just don't go too far..."

And then she doesn't see Finn again for six months.

_How many times have I seen this? _she told herself. _A hundred? A thousand? However many times I've closed my eyes, I guess. _The self-doubt and grief and loathing that her good friend Bonnie worked so hard to walk Marceline through went right out the window. _This is all my fault..._

_All my fault..._

She was thankfully spared the sight of how exactly she became the worst person in the history of Ooo. For at the moment Finn skipped down the hill, away from his friends, the boy in reality awakened.

* * *

**Jake**

Everything Jake had gone through, every thing he saw back there, it all reeled through his mind like the mess that it was. The memories rushed over him like one big tidal wave, filling his nose and his mouth with salt water that stung his eyes till they burned red. Everything, from realizing Finn was gone, to searching all over Ooo, to Lady consoling him and helping Peebles track down any leads that may know something of his adopted brother, rooting out at least a hundred keeps and holds in just half a year's time until finally, _finally _they got a definitive lead that led them to their long-missing friend.

Only he was not the same. And he never will be again.

Jake's breath was haggard, his belly churning, blood pumping furiously in his ears and his heart guts and his loins and his brain. _Finn just...he CRUSHED Susan's head. And that freak...the one who smashed hi-his teeth with a sledgehammer...I think I knocked that guy into the moat when we stormed the keep. Oh Grob oh Grob..._

Jake squeezed his dome, trying to make his rampant thoughts stop but to no avail. He pried his eyes open and found Finn rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He realized he was back at the Tree Fort, with Marceline.

_Marceline. _

"You," he snarled through grit teeth. The vampire looked to still be regaining her bearings as he gave her a hard shove.

"Woah! Jake, dude -"

He gave her another shove, the momentum of which brought her into a state of levitation. _This is wrong. Marceline has already paid her dues, she feels bad enough man! _Yet as soon as Jake thought of this he remembered that Marauder leading Finn down the hall. "This is all your fault!" he growled, readying another shove.

"Excuse me!?" she said, eyes glowering red and hair writhing about like a dozen angry black snakes. _You don't scare me anymore, Marceline. _Still he fumbled on the shove, and the vampire grabbed him by the wrists and pushed them away.

"Why did you have to go poking around there? What did we learn from that? _Nothing!" _Jake's heart knew this was wrong, that Marceline wasn't to blame but he could not control his impulsiveness in the heat of the moment.

Marceline was not slow to point this out. "_My_ fault? You wanted to go in there, you stupid dog!"

Her words only added fuel to the fire. Jake huffed and puffed, shoulders rising and falling with each. He must have looked a rabid dog. "You were the one who should have been watching him!" he said, pointing.

"Jake, you do _not _want to go there."

"It's all your fault Finn's broken! I told him! I told him the day we met that you're bad news, and yet he was too good to see any of the bad in you. He trusted you, and you _broke him, _you stupid useless Globbin' _FREAK." _

Marceline slapped him - a stinging backhand so hard that it dislodged the remaining flecks of Sleep Powder that still lingered on his head. Then she shoved him with both hands and sent him sprawling into the coffee table. It broke in two upon impact. Jake shot up to his feet, ready to pounce and fight her, claw and tooth and all that noise.

And Marceline Abadeer began to cry.

Jake could not have been more dumbfounded if the Lich himself had burst into the room, riding a unicycle and spinning plates on his horns. He had _never _seen tough and cool Marceline Abadeer weep with such mournful wails before in his lifetime. Maybe she once did, a long time ago, and perhaps she did again in the early months of Finn's disappearance. Come to think of it, he heard through word of mouth from the castle staff that Marceline had long talks with Peebles, trying to come to grips with what she had done, or in this case, failed to do.

Awkwardly, he took a step towards her. Whatever anger Jake felt at that moment was flushed from his system, replaced by pity for his undead friend. _Does she still think of me as one? After what I said? _

He reached a tentative hand for her wrist. _"No," _she snapped, wrenching away. That should have hurt, but after the way he just treated her, Jake completely understood. Red-faced and sniffling, Marceline struggled for breath. "Don't touch me...don't even look at me." She made her way to the window, and without even an "I gotta go" she was gone into the starry night.

Jake stood there in the coffee table's splintery ruins, Finn and BMO regarding him with expressionless eyes. He wanted to laugh it off; he also wanted to just curl up and cry; but most of all, he wanted Lady Rainicorn by his side.

* * *

**Bonnibel**

The princess stepped out of her bathroom, gummy skin glistening and soft from the warm water that still clung to her body. She breathed a long, relaxed take of air that blew in from her bedroom window. _A beautiful night. _The sweet, crisp air that clung to the Candy Kingdom like an ever-present spirit flooded her senses and made Bonnie giddy as a child.

Towel hugging her slender frame, she strode languidly towards her wardrobe and picked out a familiar black rock-shirt. _So many memories, _she thought, taking in its aroma and sighing deeply.

Suddenly, a second presence was felt in the room, and a voice came up. "Bonnie."

The princess gave a start, turning with her fingers grazing and pressing the hem of her towel against her bosom. She didn't need to squint to see who was lurking in the shadows. "Marcy." The vampire emerged from her hiding place, her eyes redder than normal and face the color of curdled milk. Bonnie had the grace to stifle a gasp. "Are you alright?" she asked, voice etched with concern. A sudden fear entered her mind. "Is Finn okay? Did something happen to him?"

Marceline gave no answer. She got close to Bonnie, close enough to pull her into a hug that brought their chests together. Her smell filled Bonnie's senses - her musk of smoke and the supernatural that clung to the t-shirt she so cherished like a perfume. Even today it drove the princess's mind into a frenzy, and her face turned a tad pinker than normal. "Marcy?" she said after a pause.

"Don't talk," she muttered. Bonnie did as she was asked. Marceline took her friend's face in her hands, nails seeping into her gooey hair tied up in a ponytail. Before lingering for too long, Marceline moved in and pushed her lips against Bonnie's.

As good as it felt, despite the little moan that escaped her throat, the princess forced herself to break off, pushing against the vampire's shoulders with one hand and clutching her towel in the other. Something deep in her belly cried out in protest. "Wait," she gasped, "wait." Her heart continued to beat like a wardrum, and a tingling in her core made her feel larger than life. "What about Finn?" she asked.

"Don't talk to me about Finn," Marceline whispered. "I don't want to talk about Finn. I don't want to think about Finn. All's I want is you. So just shut up and get your butt over here." Without even a chance to protest, their lips met once more. Bonnibel allowed her towel to fall.

* * *

**I hope that this didn't get too unbearably dark for you guys. Believe me, I did not enjoy writing this stuff, but it needed to be done to get you guys to understand what Finn was going through. **

**So yeah, that thing with Marceline at the end? It's SUPPOSED to be random and out of nowhere. She's kinda messed up at the moment, and she doesn't want to think about anything having to do with Finn and is just trying to forget about that whole ordeal, just for a few hours. Hopefully that didn't tune you guys out - I'm not much of a Marceline/Bubblegum shipper myself, though I do believe it is canon. And I assure you, this is the ONLY time in the story that this will be shown, so don't worry if you don't like the ship. **

**Anyway, thoughts and all that jazz. Thank you everyone who wanted me to do this chapter! I hope it didn't disappoint. Next time we'll be heading back to see what Flame Princess has been up to.**


	9. Fire Inside My Body

_"The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the wisest. All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they did." _

* * *

**Flame Princess**

They told her to start a fire. There was a chill this morning in the Fire Kingdom, they said; the first of the long and dreaded Cold Season. To the non-Flamish, it simply felt another sweltering day in the Grass Lands. Fire People however can grow deathly ill in the Cold Season, and seek alternative methods to warm their hovels, or occasionally bask near the rivers of molten lava whenever possible. Although she chose to wear her black iron set, Flame Princess heeded their warnings and threw some firetimber in the great hearth behind her seat, at the end of the jagged obsidian long table. She absentmindedly spooned and sifted through her lunch of propane soup as the council filed into the conference hall one by one.

Cinnamon Bun marched in first, spear slung behind his back, and took his seat at her right hand as her personal champion. Then at her left came Seismic Pool, a snuffly little steward whose shape was the semblance of a squat, lumpy candle. His head shuddered with every snort.

"Are you faring well against the Cold Season?" asked his queen. She cared for her subjects, especially those she closely valued like Seismic Pool.

The old steward smiled at her weakly as he took his seat. "No more than usual, Your Grace," he wheezed. Sickly was a word commonly associated with the Fire Kingdom's eldest resident, and every day Flame Princess feared she may find him one day extinguished in his sleep. But he still had a few years left - in time however Seismic's flame will snuff out on its own, and there was nothing she could do about that but wait.

Together came Magmeius the Magma Mage and Flambo, sitting beside Pool and Cinnamon Bun respectively. As per usual, Magmeius had forgotten some important bauble or report in his solar. Flame Princess granted the court sorcerer leave to retrieve it with a curt nod, and he skittered out tittering like a schoolboy. Before he returned, the final councilman hovered in, sneer as present as the sun. **  
**

Flame Princess studied his sly smile, wondering what it meant. She never liked it, no more than she liked him as a person. Even when doing something as simple as taking a stroll through the courtyard he had a way of looking like there was this grand scheme he was planning that only he was privy too. She found it effortless not to like him. Flame Princess regarded the kingdom's treasurer with a skeptical eye. "Why are you always the last here, Fire Count?" she asked with chilly courtesy.

The crackling ball of fire smiled wide, as he always did before speaking. "Apologies, Your Grace," he rasped. "As the kingdom's treasurer, it is my duty to oversee every exchange made and keep constant updates on how full our coal mines are."

The princess nodded. "Mm-hm. And how full are they?"

"Gorged, Your Grace." The Count's long pointed nose twitched, and he chuckled in that sleazy way of his that always gave Flame Princess shivers.

Every day she swore that if it weren't for his skill at maintaining wealth and counting coins, Fire Count would be tossed in a river within half a heartbeat. Nothing about him she liked, the foremost reason being he bears a striking resemblance to her father. That, and he was once ruler of the Fire Kingdom, decades before her father's father reigned. The Count's rule is famous for how short it lasted (three days to be precise) before he was literally cut down by the hero Billy after he tried to marry the old Cotton Candy Princess.

Now he is chained, bound by primeval curses that forces him to serve his kingdom as its stout servant until "the lava rivers harden and fire and water can mingle as one," as the old incantation goes. So far that hasn't happened, and to this day Fire Count remains one of the kingdom's most infamous residents. But curses or no, Flame Princess trusted nor liked him one bit, save for his skill in keeping gold.

They all sat in silence for Magmeius to return from the solar. Meanwhile Flambo hoarded and snacked on the bowl of coals left in the center of the table and babbled away about nothing no one cared to hear. The court sorcerer sprinted in seconds later, breathing hard out of the exhaust ports in his stone body as he fumbled through a stack of papers. Flame Princess gazed about her council, mood still as dour as it had been since her return from the Candy Kingdom.

_My most trusted advisers are a naive pastry, a Flambit, a dying old man and a fool and a usurper. What does that say of me?_

She forced her woes into the back of her mind - it was time to play the princess. "Hello everybody. We'll start with Fire Count. What's the status on our treasury?"

The Count summoned his stone counting-tablet in a puff of smoke. He held it between two wispy fingers and skimmed, sneering all the while. "Our coal mines flow, Your Grace. We will be able to get our castle well and through the Cold Season."

_I wonder what that tablet really says. Does it even have any writing on it? _Flame Princess chose to ignore her rampant thoughts. She had a kingdom to rule; no time to dwell on uncertainties that inevitably don't matter. "And what of the peasants?" she was quick to ask.

The Count exchanged a glance with Magmeius, which immediately told Flame Princess they knew this was coming. That made her a little angry, but she counted to ten and kept her cool. "Your Grace, I would just like to say that all of us here admire your connection to the commoners, and your dedication to helping even the lowliest of men and women," said the Count.

Flame Princess slouched in her chair. She understood what was happening here, even if no one else at the table did. Knowing he was untouchable because of his curse, the Count was free to lie straight through his pointy teeth just to spite the honesty-driven Flame Princess. So when he said, _We admire your connection to the commoners, _what he truly meant was, _I think you have a gentle heart, and one day you're going to regret it. _She always found herself wondering if the Count realized his code had been cracked a long time ago.

Normally Flame Princess brushed aside his impish games, but today her mood was blacker than ash. "Don't ass-kiss me, Count," she snapped. "Say what's on your mind and be done with it. I heed all of my council, even yours. No need to butter it up."

The Count burst into a cackle that said, 'Look at the fire in this one!' Flame Princess swallowed a growl. "I mean what I say, Your Magnificence." He ran a fiery finger down his stone tablet while humming a mild tune, and then tapped on some scribbling halfway down. "Aha. It is as I feared." He looked up. "My Queen, no one can deny that you've made some large steps in turning this kingdom into a true utopia within just a year of your reign. But the sudden shift in focus to help the poor folk has been running our gold reserves dry." He purred on _dry. _A shiver ran up the princess's spine, beneath her black plate. "If I may, we should leave the commoners to their own devices, at least for the Cold Season. Our resources will have more than enough time to replenish in the short cold months, and still we would - "

"No." For once, the Count frowned. "I thank you for putting out your suggestion, Fire Count. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to decline; leaving the commoners whose love I have just begun to earn in their most desperate time of the year is not acceptable."

The Count's body flared in his seat - for a moment his glow stretched halfway across the black obsidian table before receding back to his own area. "My Queen, who is forever as wise as she is generous, our coal and treasury stockpile will endure a severe beating if we don't impose some kind of a tax. If we were to raise the price of coal - "

Flame Princess raised a hand to silence him. "They're not called 'commoners' for their wealth, Fire Count." At her left, Cinnamon Bun snickered, and the princess allowed herself a chuckle. But she saw Magmeius and the treasurer exchange a glance colder than ice, and Flame Princess found her elation whisked away in a single breath. _They think of me as a child. Well I'll show them. _

"Increase the production of Fortifier," she suggested. "It's cheap to produce and preserves high body temperatures. Distribute them to the commoners at a _reasonable _price. If you must inflict taxes, do so on the nobles, or cut military funding. We have no need for an army at the moment; we haven't been in a war in over two hundred years."

Her word seemed to take everybody by surprise, even Fire Count, who floated there gaping like a fish out of water. Flame Princess allowed herself a smile. _I can play this money game too, Count. _

But he hasn't ran out of shots yet. Though it took him quite a bit of stammering before he could find the ability to speak properly again. "We have powerful allies in the upper class, Your Grace," he said, speaking low. "They may not take kindly to being appointed the steep taxes needed to raise production of Fortifier, no matter how cheap it is to produce."

"You mean my father has powerful allies in the upper class." If he had the ability to do so the Count would be red in the face, she knew. "I have spoken, Count. See to it that my word is carried out."

An ugly scowl formed across his shuddering face. "As you command, Your Grace." _I've wounded his pride. He's not like to forget that._

Flame Princess turned to her master spy. "Flambo, you've been gone for a couple days. What's the word in the rest of Ooo?"

The Flambit wiped his mouth of some flecks of coal. "SP, yous got the floor!" He gestured to the steward before resuming his snacking.

Seismic Pool shuffled through a bundle of stained papers, enchanted so they wouldn't burn, that Magmeius slid to him from across the table. After mere moments of skimming through every sheet, faster than any man Flame Princess has seen read before, he set them aside and moaned into his folded hands. "Flame Princess, my darling queen, I fear with this I must be blunt."

The princess felt a giant hand crushing her chest. _Is it Finn? Did I wait too long? _"What is it, Seismic?" she asked gently.

The old candle sighed. It clearly pained him to tell her this. "Sophia has passed away last night."

_Sophia... _Flame Princess's mouth hung open but no words came. She couldn't find words to speak. "Slime Princess? She...she's dead?"

"Mm. A flu. I'm sorry, princess. I know you looked to Slime Princess in the first days of your reign for wisdom. She will be missed." Flame Princess felt Cinnamon Bun's hand move under the table, and give hers a reassuring squeeze. She returned the gesture. _My knight, my friend. _"But that's not what brings concern," continued Pool. "If what Flambo reports is accurate, then her sister Blargetha has inherited the crown."

_I didn't even know she had a sister. _"What is there to be worried about?"

That was when Flambo spoke up, sounding surprised as he spoke between mouthfuls of coal. "You mean t' tell me that ol' Finny never told ya?" She shot him a look. "Ah, righto...naw, but I'm serious! That Blargetha dame is _baaaaad _news, lemme tell ya: a while back, she tried givin' her sister the boot and transform Slime Kingdom into an army to take over Ooo. _Not even kiddin'._ Luckily our boy Finny stopped her, so yeah, things were good."

Fire Count found the whole tale incredibly amusing. "An army?" He saw this to be a perfect opportunity to tug at Flame Princess's nerves. He looked to her, sneering wide and said, "Cut back on military spending, Your Grace?"

With a slam of her fist she snapped at the Fire Elemental, "_Enough!" _Her voice lashed like a whip. "I will hear no more of that. It could take years before Slime Kingdom turns into a military state, and besides, she has Elder Plops giving her council and keeping her in check."

"Sit and wait!?" shrieked Magmeius, always the worry wart. "Sit and wait?! We, the Fire Kingdom, one of the most powerful nations in all of Ooo, suggests to sit and wait for the Slime Kingdom to come knocking at our doors?" _Your sire would have never stood for this, _was what his tone implied. Flame Princess shot him a glare. Sometimes that rock could never hold his slippery tongue and think for a moment.

_It's sometimes a wonder how Father ever stood this poor little sorcerer. _Most days he was more of a librarian than a professor of pyromancy, squatting in his giant library waiting for no one seeking his "wisdom."

"Relax, Triple M," Flame Princess said with a semi-forced smile. "Assuming that the Slime Kingdom does try and make war, it still has to get through the twisted labyrinth of the Jungle Kingdom, the might of Candy Kingdom and its close allies the Earldom of Lemongrab and Lumpy Space."

Magmeius regarded his queen as if she's gone mad. Lava dribbled from his stony pores like smoking blood. "Slime Kingdom is forty _thousand _strong, Your Grace. And the Earldom and Lumpy Space are forces to be reckoned with, yes, but their alliance with Candy Kingdom is, well, 'alliance' may be too kind a word."

"And what makes you say that?" If there was one person she trusted to give a detailed report on anything in Ooo, it would be Magmeius, as worrisome and clumsy as he might be.

The mage must have seen this as his moment to shine, because he began to babble excitedly under his breath as he shuffled through his stack of wrinkled yellow papers. Looking at it, one could be forgiven for forgetting that that had once been a compendium detailing every kingdom in the wide land of Ooo. Some dynasties took up three pages, front and back, while lesser ones like the Hot Dog Kingdom barely took up half. Magmeius's beady red eyes widened when he drew four, one that just barely filled a side on the recently-established Earldom of Lemongrab (and thus was the page with the least amount of stains and tears) and three on Lumpy Space.

He laid them out in front of Flame Princess. "The Earldom is only five-hundred strong," Magmeius explained, pointing at a tiny scribble the queen couldn't quite see before he swiped it away. "Lumpy Space, while one of the few kingdoms with air power, has always had strained relations with Princess Bubblegum. And the Third Earl of Lemongrab has had _zero _contact with any of the other kingdoms, so his loyalty to the Candy Kingdom is still up to question." He yanked and stuffed all of the pages back into his pile, lava weeping from his pores as his own way of sweating. "What I'm trying to get at, is we shouldn't cut back on military spending and try to forge an alliance with the Candy Kingdom, should the worst come to pass."

Old Seismic Pool suddenly spoke up then, which actually gave Magmeius a start. "And how many wars has the Slime Kingdom been in, my young friend?" He worked his lips in and out awaiting a reply. Magmeius placed stiff hands over his pile, and offered a slight shake of his head in answer. "Correct. The Slime Kingdom is one of the most respectable nations to be found across Ooo. It may be gross, it may smell like warm garbage, but it is respectable. It hasn't been in a single war, and our queen is right: it could take _years _before it makes a complete turnaround into a military state. Slime People are benign by nature to the point where its almost a fault, just as Candy People are instinctually complete boobs and Fire People backstabbers and liars."

Cinnamon Bun looked to his little princess when Pool mentioned that last part - he saw the firmness of her jaw, the spark in her eye, even if no one else at the table could. Only he understood what she yearned for her people. Perhaps Flame Princess and Blargetha aren't quite so different in that respect. _All of them are my father's dogs. They always will be, even long after he's extinguished. Except for Cinnamon Bun, my shining knight. _

Just for that one glance he gave, the princess offered him a smile of thanks, and he beamed brighter than the sun. _My knight, my poor knight. He wants me. He loves me truly, and not as a knight loves his queen, but as husband loves a wife. _Her chest ached for the pastry with a heart bigger than it had any right to be. _He gave up everything to be with me. _Does he know that she knows? Sometimes Cinnamon Bun made it so obvious that she almost felt embarrassed for him. Flambo would always report to her of rather provocative whispers among the commoners regarding her relationship with the non-Flame Person.

"Your Grace?" Seismic Pool leaned closer, his head _whirring _as he did. "Your Grace, what would you have us do?"

Flame Princess gave a start, sucking in a bit of air. _The Four take my teenager attention span. _"About the Slime Kingdom?" Pool nodded. "I say wait. All's we're doing is bleating like sheep about knives in the shadows and statistics that could be made irrelevant tomorrow. We should see what Blargetha decides to do, what kind of council she's being given and such. Flambo, I want a daily report on the Slime Kingdom, you got that? Good. Is that all you found in the field?"

"Well I've finally found where they've moved Finny." Flame Princess straightened her back, taut as a bowstring. "The guy's at his Tree Fort. He seems to be doing okay - he was even having a sleepover or somethin' with Jake and the Vampire Queen. I dunno why but I actually went in there and accidentally woke the kid. But don't worry, I got outta there quick as a rabbit, for reals. And good thing too because behind me I heard alotta shoutin'. Not sure what that was about."

_So Bubblegum moved Finn to his place. Good, good. _"You performed amiably, Flambo. I'd offer you some coals as a reward, but..." She glanced at the empty bowl beside the Flambit's paws and the two of them shared a giggle. Fire Count hooted like that was the funniest thing he ever heard.

"So last but not least...Cinnamon Bun: what's the word on my people?" Her voice indicated no enthusiasm whatsoever, and for good reason. _I can't close my eyes and pretend everything's okay, as much as I'd like to._

Her champion looked just as miserable as he breathed deep before starting. "There has been a rise in domestic problems," he began. "Because of your honesty policy, there have been commoners who are so honest that they hurt others feelings. While this may not seem like a problem on the forefront, owners of business have taken to abusing this policy and denying specific customers or even entire groups of people service. On the other hand some are keeping so close to 'old traditions' of keeping secrets that when they do get found out there's...trouble. Magmeius, if you'll please. Thank you." Cinnamon Bun flattened out the paper that the mage had crumpled in anger earlier in the week and read from it, "There has been _forty _brawls in the past month - " Flame Princess muttered _'__Forty'? _completely aghast " - and some of the more disturbing reports details the usage of _water_. Don't ask me how that got into the city. And there's been talk in the streets concerning Finn the Human. _Angry_ talk. They say you lied, or that you had a part in his kidnapping. That knucklehead from a couple days ago who wanted you to take care of the Lich Baby is spouting some nonsense that you're secretly his thrall. And those who are keeping to the 'old ways' laugh in open about how your new law is failing, and soon...so will you."

Flame Princess would have been mad. She should be _furious _in fact. But apart from the talk concerning Finn (which did bother her because she knew that that was all her fault), it's the exact same song and dance from the last council meeting, a month prior. She coolly waved a hand off in dismissal. "Words are nothing but hot air. Let them talk. All rumors die down, sooner or later."

Cinnamon Bun nodded stiffly. "Okay," he said, sounding uncertain. "And what about the street fights?"

_Oh. Right. Almost forgot about those. _"Boost the number of Flame Guards patrolling the streets. We have more than stationed around the castle. Is that all?"

Cinnamon Bun made a gesture that resembled one shaking their head. "I'm afraid not. To put it bluntly, Your Highness, the pot is about ready to boil. There's so many liars and patriots running amok that everyone gives each other this nasty look whenever they pass by in the streets. And with the Cold Season upon us it's only going to get worse when they start fighting over space along the lava banks, or kill each other for some Fortifier once that stuff hits the shelves."

"Do we need Magmeius to create more Flame Guards?"

Cinnamon Bun opened his mouth to answer, but the lump of coal piped up first, black smoke fuming from the fissures along the top of his head. "A novel idea, Your Magnificence, but creating more Flame Guards will only result in more mouths to feed and bodies to keep warm. If I may put forth a suggestion, perhaps we can start recruiting commoners into the Guard with promises of warmth and whatever it is the peasants desire."

"And then we'd actually have to start paying them," groaned the Count. "More gold wasted away, on top of producing surplus Fortifier. And we can't necessarily pay them in food and warmth, things they can get for free and without the health risk. _Hrm_. We could try distributing military aid, Your Grace. Just enough to keep everybody on their toes." Magmeius and Pool and even Flambo seemed to like the notion.

But Flame Princess shook her head at the suggestion. "No. I will not have my people cowering in fear like we're some ruthless dictatorship. History won't compare me to the Fat Earl of Lemongrab - I won't let it."

The treasurer simply looked at Flame Princess and frowned. "As you say, Your Grace." She felt a chill run down her arms. Flame Count settled back into his seat at the end of the table, his flame turning the obsidian table into a sheet of beaten copper.

Suddenly Cinnamon Bun coughed into his fist. The princess tilted her head. "Is that all, Cinnamon Bun?"

The pastry shifted in his seat, beads of liquid sugar rolling down his broad homely face. "If you don't mind, my beautiful queen, I would rather have Flambo or Pool say the rest."

He was already sliding the report to the Flambit on his left when Flame Princess said, "I'm asking you, CB."

Cinnamon Bun looked to his princess, deep black eyes filled with nothing but pity. "My queen," he muttered, purposely avoiding her gaze by looking past her head, "when you named me your personal bodyguard after overthrowing your father, you told me you wanted complete and total honesty, always."

"I get that feeling that I'm not going to like what you're going to say," she said gloomily.

The knight nodded, his little flame hat producing a thin finger of smoke that floated up into the dark stone ceiling. He took a deep breath and said, "The honesty policy is a complete disaster."

Flame Princess's mouth hung agape, and it wasn't because of the ugly truth concerning her new law, that much she already knew (though she certainly tried to ignore it). _Cinnamon Bun, you always supported my efforts to transform the Fire Kingdom into a place of honesty, _she thought, looking into the guilt etched into his face.

"The commoners are talking," he continued without heed. This was no time to be coy now, both he and his princess knew. "Flambo must have told you by now, there is little love for the way we have been running things these past months. Everyone is aware of how you refuse to kill your father. But the insolent... At first there was only a few, and they kept their chuckles behind closed doors. Now it seems that they're everywhere, and they laugh about you in the streets, restaurants and such. No one takes you seriously anymore, not like they did when you were the fabled daughter of Flame King, who was just as ruthless as he if not more and was forced to live in a lantern because her power was so great. Even when I'm sitting in the same room as bullheaded liars they openly call you 'the Cold-Fire Queen', as a mockery to how your power must have diminished when living in the outside world and you've grown soft. Supporters of the 'old way' talk openly of how things were much better when your father was king, and imply that things would return to normalcy if you were...removed from the throne."

That was a lot to take in, but the only thing that stood out in Flame Princess's mind was, "They hate how the council is running things, is that what you're telling me?"

Cinnamon Bun stared at his queen, big black eyes shimmering brightly against her glow. "You most of all, Flame Princess."

_"Me?" _The surprise was like to choke her. Anger and grief and a little bit of despair rattled her hands. She hid them under the table. "But...but why?" _I thought everybody loved me..._

"You are, forgive me my queen, but a child. Among the commoners, it is said that you have naive ideals. And this council, more or less, has been established since your grandfather ruled. Seismic, the Count, Magmeius; they've been around when times were better under Flame King, but you were not. And then you swaggered in one day, with policies and rules that go against Flamish nature. They still regard me as a...a half-baked fool. They say you employed a spy to ensure that everyone remains completely honest, uncaring if it's an intrusion of their privacy. They say you're in league with Princess Bubblegum to run the kingdom into the ground in return for a seat on her council when she 'succeeds in taking over Ooo'. They say you threw the mighty Don John into a lantern with your father because he dared take matters into his own hands - "

_"HE WAS A TRAITOR!" _she roared. Her hair burst into searing gold flames. Everyone stared at her with giant red eyes, save for the black bulbs of Cinnamon Bun. _Ten, nine, eight, seven... _Her hair returned to it's normal contained flicker, which she ran her fingers through. "Yes, I'm a naive child and a terrible queen, and I am coward and a liar and grotesquely fat, we can't forget that." Her hands coiled into fists, wrapped around locks of wispy orange hair. _Perhaps father was right about me being weak, and it's not because of the poisoned tea. _Flame Princess stomached all she cared to hear. "I've heard enough for today. Leave me to my thoughts. We shall gather again before the week's end."

Later that night the princess was leering over her balcony, beholding the red rivers that flowed through her kingdom like veins on dark skin. She thought about everything - her childish views on honesty, the little civil war going on in her kingdom. She wept for an hour over Sophia the Slime Princess's untimely death.

_Bad things happen to good people, I suppose. _

Flame Princess's body yearned for drink, but when her cup-bearer came with her routine evening tea, the queen had roared at him and sent him running for the hills. Her mood was as black as the rock of which her kingdom was built, and there was only one way to lighten it.

_I need to clear my head. I need to kill some things. I need...I need to help Finn. _Perhaps that will clear her mind, helping her friend return to normalcy. _I could focus on my kingdom once I get that taken care of. _She waited long enough for the seed to grow, now it's time to see what kind of flower it is.

* * *

**Funn**

Mister Jake had left for the Candy Kingdom that morning. He didn't really say what for, but he just needed to talk to Princess Bubblegum. _It's not my place to know, _Funn told himself after he was alone. _Jake-I mean, Mister Jake, would have told me if it was. _

He was staring out the window letting his fingers warm on the sill. His belly rumbled for food, and even though Mister Jake has made it _explicitly_ clear that he had free range of the refrigerator, Funn didn't want to eat. Not because he felt it wrong to abuse the dog's kindness (though that was part of the reason) but because it's just so hard to eat. For six months straight Funn had only known the grey wash in a bowl, and sometimes the occasional rat. He had grown so used to just tilting his head back and letting the slop slide down his throat, as nasty as it was. But silverware provides a whole other challenge, and its hard to eat any of Mister Jake's wonderful meals with just four fingers. It made him feel useless, especially when he had to have his hot dog cut one night.

_But it tastes so good. _Funn smiled at the memory. His smile grew when he realized what he was doing. _Smiling. _He could have giggled like a child, it felt so wrong. Sure, there was no one around to wipe that grin off his face. And yet...and yet...

"Finn? Do you want to play hide and seek?" The boy made sure his smile was gone before turning. He found BMO standing there on the floor, cute smile displayed on his screen.

_Do...I? _Funn could almost hear Mister Jake in the back of his mind, _What do YOU want to do? _The boy really didn't know. BMO was not master of the house but he's still a companion of Mister Jake...and the old boy. _You aren't him anymore, Funn. He's just another familiar face, and so is Mister Jake and Princess Bubblegum and Flame Queen and Queen...no, Marceline. Just Marceline. Remember her name, Funn. And remember yours. _

It seems that BMO noticed Finn's silence, for he offered a shrug of his tiny plastic shoulders and said, "If you do not want to play, then that is alright. Do you mind if I join you in looking outside?"

"Not at all." Funn liked BMO. He was the only person he had met so far that has not cringed or showed any reaction to his horrific appearance. Not that he cared before, mind you, but Funn found it a breath of fresh air that someone from his old life didn't seem to care how he looked. _  
_

Though BMO still preferred to call him by his old name. _No one's perfect. I know that better than anybody. __Let them heave, let them blench. My esteem perished in Master's dungeons. When I felt that bite of a knife, or the burn of pleasing others, a distasteful look has no more power than the world's smallest ant. _

BMO clambered up Mister Jake's sleeping drawer, and with a little hop the gaming robot was on the windowsill. He sat, hands folded over his broad chassis. "The Grass Lands are beautiful, are they not?" he said.

Funn nodded, and not because he felt he had to. The hills loomed up and down, going on seemingly forever as an ocean of grass, so green and lush that Funn wanted to cry. "So beautiful," he said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Grob, it really is." A small breeze picked up and drifted into the house, carrying with it smells of a hundred different flowers. He smelled it slowly, savoring every scent, while BMO did the same despite his lack of a nose. _  
_

_BMO, BMO. The little weird robot that wanted to be flesh, _Funn recalled.

"The world is still beautiful," said the robot.

His suddenness gave Funn a little start. "What do you mean?" he asked.

BMO turned to face him, frown presented on his screen. "I do not know what you went through, Finn. I feel sad though when I see you, and when I look into your eyes, there is only fear. You do not need to be afraid, Finn. You are surrounded by friends now." Funn was about to open his mouth in protest, but BMO quickly said, "And do not say you are broken, because you are not. You may be hurt. You may never fight again. But you can still make us laugh, and you can be a good friend to me and Jake and the Princess Bubblegum and everybody. A knife or some big mean Master will never take those things away, even if you think they already did. Even if they boast that they did.

Funn had no idea how to respond, to any of that. He just stared at BMO, blue eyes shimmering like ice on a hot day, until finally he said, "But I don't want to displease anyone. I can't return to being that other boy, I don't deserve it. But Princess Bubblegum and Mister Jake want me to, I can tell." _  
_

"And is that so bad?" asked the robot. Funn couldn't decide whether or not that was a trick question before BMO continued. "We become different people, always. On the day we come out of a mommy's stomach to the day we sink into the ground and rejoin our mommy, we are never the same person." BMO pushed himself to his little feet so that he was at eye level with Funn. "You can call yourself something else, that is true, but in your heart of gold you will always be our mathematical friend." He thumped his plastic chassis, where his heart would be if he had one. "Do not fear your friends. We love you, Finn. And never doubt yourself. You are stronger than you think you are." BMO waddled forward and pat Funn's hand, right on the nub of his thumb.

Funn showed him his ugly smile, brown and broken and all, and the little robot did not mind one bit. In fact, his own grew a few pixels broader. "BMO, you are just full of surprises," he said. It was the only thing on his mind at the moment.

BMO laughed gaily. "No I am not, silly! I'm filled with tech, see?" He popped open his chassis and showed Funn his wiry innards, copper rings and the works. When he sealed himself once more, BMO gave him a light slap on the wrist. "Tag! You're it!" In the blink of an eye the little robot was suddenly dashing across the bedroom on little legs, giggle still heard as he scampered down the stairs.

_I suppose it wouldn't hurt to just play one game. _Funn stood, the old wood of the floor tickling the soles of his feet. However when he took a step, he was perhaps too eager as he lost his balance. He shot out his hand, saving himself by pushing against Mister Jake's bureau. The force of it made the whole thing rock, and for a moment the boy feared that it would fall on top of him and crush him.

Instead, the only thing to fall was a little grey box, adorned along the bottom with a series of buttons. When it hit the ground, a violet light shone from the port hole on the top and a holographic of a dog that looked much like Mister Jake but with a hat appeared, standing before a fireplace. It spoke as Funn bent over to pick it up.

_"Finn! If you're seeing this prerecorded holo-message, it's because you finished the dungeon that I made for _you_. I'm proud of you. You're going to do great things in this world. I love you, son." _

Funn took back his stool and set the thing on his lap. For the longest time he just stared at it, thinking all the while, _That was...Joshua. The old boy...Finn's...father. His real father. _For reasons he couldn't quite explain a lump formed in Funn's throat. And he hit rewind and listened to the message again.

_I shouldn't be touching this,_ he told himself when it was over._ Mister Jake's like to take my entire hand off if he just walked right in here and saw me touching his stuff. _And yet there was no fear eating at his guts, oddly enough. Then he grew bold, and something was making him move his hand up to the console and hit Rewind.

_"Finn! If you're seeing-" _Fast forward _"-the dungeon that I made for _you. _I'm proud of you-" _Rewind _"Finn!-" _Fast forward _"-the dungeon that I made for _you_. __I'm proud of you-" _Fast forward _"-I love you, son." _Rewind. _"I love you-" _Rewind _"-Finn!" _Fast forward _"You're going to do great things in this world-" _Rewind _"-Finn!" _Fast forward _"I love you-" _Rewind _"-you're going to do great things in this world." _

Rewind.

_"You're going to do great things in this world."_

Rewind.

_"You're going to do great things in this world. I love you, son." _

Rewind.

_"Finn!" _

Stop.

* * *

**'Dad's Dungeon' is probably my favorite episode in the series just for that one scene. Gawd, it's just so sweet and heartwarming. **

**Anyways, Fire COUNT. See what I did there?**

**I'd like to point out in the section with Flame Princess that everything discussed in there will become important later on. And did you notice how Flame Princess wasn't heeding any of her council's advice, and instead was insisting that they do things her way? That was intentional. Flame Princess has always been a headstrong, independent girl, and I can actually see something like that happening. And mind you that she doesn't exactly realize that she's doing this - it's not on purpose. **

**Anyways, I don't know why but I really loved how the scene with BMO and Finn played out. It just felt so...uplifting and sweet. Also I ate dinner using only the four fingers of my left hand like Finn. It really is kinda awkward. **

**Also, I am aware that BMO does have a literal heart of gold. Remember: this is from Finn's POV we're reading, and he has forgotten some things about his friends, like how BMO wants to be a real person. **


	10. Dreams and Duties

_"When you lose everything, how do you find your way back?"_

* * *

**Jake**

Jake entered Bubblegum's lab to find her on a stool, back turned. On the table before her sat the crazy Royal Tart Toter, vanilla icing salivating down his chin like always. The bird and squirrel that always accompanied him stood like two gargoyles on a nearby counter, beside the sink. His sightless black eyes stared listlessly up at the ceiling whilst he hummed a one-note tune to himself until suddenly the Toter burst out with, _"Fire! Fire all around! Revenge is a dish best served hot, you know!"_

Jake froze, only making it halfway across the room. Though it wasn't the old Tart Toter that gave him pause but rather the princess herself. PB's head rocked side to side as she shined a flashlight into each of the great voids RTT had for eyes. Her goo-like hair bound into a tight little ponytail that fell down her slim pink neck, presenting her entire back to the world behind. The purple tank top she wore left her arms bare, showing her gummy pale skin from the elbow up covered in ugly welts swollen like red berries and bruises that had already begun to yellow on full display.

"Princess..."

PB turned, flouncing hair swaying with the motion. Her face was akin to a blank sheet of paper - unreadable, empty. Below the neck her tank revealed numerous bite marks that looked sore to even the slightest touch; some looked gnarly enough to make Jake's stomach turn. "Hey Jake," she said. Her tone indicated no change from her usual chipper, in spite of her current state. "Thank you for answering my summon." She smiled with her mouth but her eyes didn't.

_And PB is usually so good at lying, _thought Jake. For half a second he considered turning tail, or leaping out the open window to his left.

_"The taste of bubblegum is at the tip of my fingers!" _cried the Tart Toter. None heeded his crazed ramblings.

Jake ran a tentative hand along his noggin. Suddenly he realized that an awkward silence fell upon the room, just as unbearable as the humidity today. "Uh..._yeah!_ Yeah. You sounded pretty, well, dead on the phone this morning. I was afraid something...bad...happened." A half-truth. In reality Jake was half-hoping and half-dreading that Marceline was with her, so he could give a lame apology for his lousy behavior the night before.

_Seems like I already missed that boat. _A tasteless joke, he decided right after thinking it. Though he didn't say it, it still gnawed at his heart-guts something awful.

Bubblegum's hand waved in dismissal. "Oh, don't mind that," she said. "I was just really tired."

_After doing what? _he dared to think. Jake looked for a change of subject (not once thinking to ask why she even called him there), and noticed the Royal Tart Toter. "What's with him?" he asked, pointing.

"The Candy Kingdom Mental Hospital said they've been having problems with RTT waking in the middle of the night and spewing this mad jargon over and over again." Peebles reached out and tenderly patted the Toter's stale kneecap. Jake perceived the tiniest wince in her face when she lifted her battered arm.

_"Have you ever seen a broken heart?"_ he asked in response. _"I have, both fig-ur-a-tiv-ely AND lit-er-all-y!" _As he chuckled and wheezed, flecks of crumbs sprinkled from his person and onto the counter.

"A demented mind," she sighed. "I think I'll order him a double dosage of Milkwarm. That should be enough to get him through the night."

He solemnly watched the candy princess tap a reflex hammer against the Toter's gingerbread kneecaps, whom kicked his legs up a bit in reaction. Jake noticed that Bubblegum tossed the hammer to the counter, rather than get up and walk it over.

_She must be in a heck of a lot of pain, _he observed. As Jake ogled the red and purple that splotched Princess Bubblegum's soft pink flesh, he found himself remembering what Finn told him a lifetime ago, about how every hurt is like a "hickey from the Universe". He spat on the memory like it was poison. "Princess, are you alright?"

His question cut through the silence, the droning of the Toter's hum, like it was made of cheesecloth. The princess lingered on a response. "Yeah Jake," she said after a spell. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said quickly. That was as bad a lie as the princess's. _This is the first time I've seen her since we left in that lemon litter. Holy Grob she looks like a mess! _You'd have to be as blind and deaf as the Tart Toter to fall for her lies, and figure out who it was that ravaged her. And for Jake especially, whom was one of the few in Ooo aware of the royals' past relationship, he figured it out the moment he saw what she did to Princess Bubblegum. _You mean what I did, _he told himself. From there determination had its claws hooked in him. _I'm setting this right. _

Jake watched from afar as Peebles leaned over and scribbled something down on a clipboard. It was clear how much pain the sheer effort to grab it caused her. Looking upon the display, Jake actually let out a dog-like whimper that may or may not have gone unnoticed by the princess. _What did I make Marceline do? _

"You'll be fine, old friend." Bubblegum gave RTT another pat on the knee, whom graced the space above her head a silly grin. Turning back to Jake, she had a comforting smile. Even though it was obviously fake, and a poor effort at that, the sight of her white smile in contrast with the lacerations crowning her breasts just crushed his heart to pieces. _Holy Grob PB, could you at least _try_ and not make it seem so forced? It's really bumming me out. _

The hurts that covered the strong and kindhearted Princess Bubblegum, and the guilt he felt looking at them, ate a whole through his stomach till he could bear it no longer. "What happened to you, Peebes?" he blurted out, knowing full-well what happened but too scared to say her name.

The princess simply shrugged her bruised shoulders. "Marceline happened."

Jake had no idea what to say. _I'm sorry, for starters. _Instead his mouth stupidly asked, "Are you...okay?"

"Am I _okay?" _She lifted her hands, mouth agape, eyes flaring with aghast with a flush creeping up her neck. "No, Jake, I'm not okay!" she snapped, voice like a whip. "My best friend's a mess while my other thinks he's some sick man's sex toy, I've got the Third Earl of Lemongrab ignoring my letters, Slime Princess has passed away and all the while I have that sicko 'Master' living far more comfortably than he deserves in the dungeon and I have _no idea what to do with him._" A hand clasped on the edge of her stool squeezed against the wood till its knuckles turned white. _  
_

_"I went hunting today, you know! I got me a nice ol' pelt that I think will go nicely with some lemonade!"_

"Shut up!" PB roared, even though the insane gingerbread man was completely deaf to her demands. She groaned into her hands, fingers grasping at clumps of bubblegum hair.

Jake was still trembling long after the princess's outburst, until finally he squeaked out a meager, "I'm sorry." Then he asked something that was gnawing at his belly. "Marceline told you about...what we did?" He couldn't say it directly, even after everything that happened. It left Jake wide awake for a better part of the night, a small part of it dedicated to the horrors witnessed in Finn's memories and what he said to Marceline, and a greater part of it just replaying those mangled screams made by Susan Strong. _I never really liked her, _he said to himself for the hundredth time, _but she meant a lot to Finn. _

Just recalling a few of the things he saw Finn go through made it hard to breathe; a hand closed around Jake's chest, and squeezed. _I can think of a few things you could do to the Master, PB, _he thought grimly. A fire sputtered in his guts as he pondered what he himself could do to that sick freak.

Yet surprising him, the princess shook her head. "No, she told me nothing. But from the way she was acting and the flecks of Sleep Powder I saw in her hair as she was..." Bubblegum cast her gaze at the window, violet eyes flickering with something Jake couldn't quite discern before it fled and she looked back to him. "It wasn't hard to put two and two together." Peebles swallowed nothing, and sighed, turning back to the Tart Toter. "I'm sorry for yelling like that," she said to Jake, patting the Toter's stale kneecaps. "I'll be okay, really. Marcy, she's...she's just going through a rough time. And reliving what she believes was a failure in saving Finn...Gob, that must have been rough."

Jake stood in awe, mouth slightly agape. _Man, the princess sure doesn't miss a beat. _This fleeting moment of admiration almost made Jake forget about what happened last night. _Finn is still messed up and Marceline still hates me, _he remembered gloomily. _Marceline...Gah, I'm such an idiot. Why can't I stop and think for once?_

"Is that why you called me here?" he asked, both hoping and dreading that that was the case. "To find Marceline and talk to her?" And just like always, words haphazardly tumbled from his thoughts without even sparing a single one towards realizing what a mistake that is. "We...we had a fight, PB," he confessed, fingers lacing. Bubblegum tilted her head. "I'm what set her off. I blamed her for everything that happened and I...well, I feel horrible. What's worse is she was actually handling it better than me but I...I exploded without even thinking and got her upset. I want to apologize."

_I shouldn't have told PB it was my fault, _he immediately realized, eyes drawn to the purple and red that marked her fine gummy skin. And yet she said nothing.

For the longest time Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum just stared at him. And stared, and stared. He's seen that stare half a hundred times, like when Tree Trunks and Mr. Pig and all their friends stood up against her 'tyranny', or that one time she ordered him and Finn to make Ice King howl with pain. She'd yell at him. She'd hit him. She'd order her guards to throw him in a dungeon with the Master. Any of those could happen, but Jake was certain at least one would be carried out. And for a fleeting moment he considered allowing himself to be punished. _I've definitely got some bad karma, _he'd be quick to admit. But then he remembered that Finn needs help, and as of now BMO and himself seem to be the only people in Ooo capable of the job.

_And I can't do that from a dungeon, _was the conclusion his scattered train of thought arrived to. _So come on, PB. Whatcha gonna do? _

Her back went rigid all of a sudden, taut as a bowstring. Jake's hands clenched, and that did not go unnoticed from her discerning eye. When she finally spoke, it wasn't directed towards Jake yet she kept her eyes on him all the same as she called for Peppermint Butler. Peps didn't seem to, or chose not to, take notice in the tension that had Bubblegum and Jake locked like stone statues. He wordlessly escorted Royal Tart Toter back to the hospital, whom rambled on about the royal path in the desert, leaving the two alone in the lab.

And only when the door _clicked _shut did she speak, and it was something Jake did not see coming at all:

"That doesn't matter, Jake."

Her tone was a bit too cold for his liking. "Doesn't...?" He couldn't even finish repeating what he heard. "Princess, she's our friend! How could she not matter?"

"She _does - !_" Bubblegum stopped herself to take in a deep sigh. Fists opening and closing, she looked just about ready to hit him. "_Please_, Jake, _please_ don't twist my words when I say that there are more important things at large than Marceline's self pity. And don't concern yourself with this - " she shrugged her battered shoulders " - this isn't important. It's between Marcy and I, and I've already gotten over it."

Jake shook his head, refusing to accept that. _And I can tell just from the way she's talking that she is definitely NOT okay with...with whatever happened last night. _He knew, deep inside, he knew what Marcy and Peebles did last night, and their history that stretched back generations before he was born. He'd just rather not think about it. It made him feel all weird inside. "Please Princess, I Globbed up!" he said in desperation. "And don't talk to me like I'm some kind of an idiot, I can tell from the way you're acting that whatever happened between you and Marcy isn't something you've claimed to have gotten over. No, I say we try to find Marceline, talk some things out with her - "

She held up a hand to silence him. Her jaw clenched. "I don't want to think about Marceline right now, Jake. I don't want to focus on Marceline, I don't want anything to do with Marceline. Any talk of Marceline stops _right here. _If you want to talk to her, then like you said, that's your own problem. But don't expect me to be everyone's _Globbing babysitter_."

Jake remembered how much Marceline's backhand stung the night before. Even though he acknowledged that that was his own fault, hearing it come from someone else for some reason just hurt more than any slap ever could. And hearing PB talk like this, her voice steel with eyes as hard as the stuff... _Holy Grob what have I done? Everything I do just makes things worse..._

The princess must have seen the hurt in his eyes, as enraged as she likely was at that moment, for her face softened and the kindhearted Princess Bubblegum of the Candy Kingdom returned. "I'm sorry for snapping." _You don't have anything to be sorry about, _he wanted to say, but the princess continued before he could. "I'm tired, Jake. This whole week has just been one big emotional roller coaster." Her shoulders trembled, and Jake feared Bubblegum was about to cry. Thankfully she kept it all bottled up inside, but the hurt in her face was as clear as the blue sky.

Jake took a tentative step forward. Then another. "I know it ain't my business PB," he started gently, "but I get the feeling that there's more to this than an ugly night between the sheets." Her chin crumpled, shoulders throbbed, breaths quickened, short and silent. Jake was afraid he pushed the wrong button, and thought of the first thing to make amends. "Princess," he said, hand resting on the small of her back, "do you want me to go find Marceline?"

Her entire person lurched to his touch. His hand jerked back as though it just touched a hot stove. "Don't touch me," Bubblegum snapped. She had a pitiful look in her eye. "Just...no, please. Don't touch me."

A deep sigh, full and very womanly. She gave him a sidelong look, and then back to the wall in front of her. Her lips, thin and a shade of pink darker than her skin, curled into the tiniest of forced smiles. "No Jake. It'll be okay." Her tone sounded genuine, so Jake forced himself to believe that it was so.

For a minute they sat there soaking in each other's presence, these two beings that rarely, if ever, have quality time together. Jake felt it lasted a lifetime, at least he would have liked it to. He felt a strange calm overtake him - something that hasn't been felt in ages, since that picnic with Marceline on top of the hill in fact. He did not doubt that the candy princess, with all the physical and mental abuse she has endured since that faithful day, felt just the same.

_Now I just need Rainicorn with me and the kids, and we could all just sail to an island where there's nothing at all to worry about. Just me, my family and Bubblegum. No worries, no heart-stabs or sleepless nights, and no...no Finn...or Marceline... _Jake's shoulders sagged.

Bubblegum's hands folding into her lap. When Jake looked upon her face he noticed she was biting her lip, for when he glanced up a light pink was beginning to return to her bottom lip. _What were you thinking about, PB? _he asked himself. _Were you thinking the same thing as me? That'd be freaky..._

"Jake," she suddenly said, voice etched with apparent uncertainty, "you have to understand that sad lives breed sad people. For months I've done what I could to soften Marceline, to make her see that she is not to blame for what happened, but I fear I do too little. What would you say if I told you that not only am I Marceline's oldest friend, but I'm also the only person who is a constant positive influence on her life?"

Jake could only shrug. "I dunno." Deep down, something in his gut always had an inkling that the thousand year old princess and the thousand year old vampire became friends (around the six-hundredth year mark, would be his best guess), given their similar standings on the concept of Father Time. But even so... "Marceline doesn't seem that bad though."

A sudden smile crossed her lips, one that indicated a sort of fondness. "Marceline may be crass and at times callous, but she is no monster by any means. She can and has held grudges against other people that have lasted _centuries_, and her own person is no exception. I don't think that can be helped. There's just some things about a person you can never change. Eighteen or a thousand, until the end of her days Marceline will have the mindset of a teenager. As will I." She gave a coy smile, one that said, _except with a lot of brains. _Jake smiled back, wary of the gesture; that 'until the end of her days' remark didn't sit well with him.

"No, Jake. Marceline is my friend and I'm willing to move mountains for her, you know that. But I just don't have the energy nor the desire to deal with her drama right now. And I don't think she'll be coming back any time soon, 'cause she knows that I'll bop her one for doing this." She gestured to the entirety of her battered person. Jake frowned, unsure if he was supposed to laugh at that or not. This seemingly went unnoticed by Peebles. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, Jake?" she asked, voice as gentle as her smile.

_I'd sleep better though if I could just find her so we can talk about things._ Despite what gut feelings yearned, Jake put on what he thought was a convincing grin and nodded. It wasn't enough to fool the princess, who must have sensed his malcontent.

When Bubblegum spoke to him, she did so with probably all the tenderness she could muster, given her current state, but that didn't get Jake to resent it any less. "Finn is the priority right now. But if you want to apologize to Marceline, then I urge you to do so - make amends, and without any fear." When she saw no change in Jake's crestfallen mask, PB clapped him on the back and beamed him with a reassuring smile. "I know Marceline," she said, "and believe me when I say she has probably already forgotten about what you specifically said. I can guarantee that she's at her house right now channeling her grief in some unreleased album." It was meant to be a jest, a little remark made to bring a smile to his face. But Jake couldn't bring himself to even fake one, though he shrugged his shoulders, as was his way of setting the matter aside.

"So you know where to find her," she concluded with a final pat on the back.

Jake mulled her words, begrudgingly seeing the cold reality of it all, and accepting that this is a problem he'll have to deal with on his own. _PB doesn't care that it was my fault. She's already forgiven me and Marceline for our actions, and heck, that alone makes her a bigger person than either of us put together. _Jake unfolded his arms and pat Bubblegum's wrist. "Thanks, PB."

She gave him a weary smile. "Just doing my job, Jake." PB's hands rose to the tiara nestled in her hair and lifted it off her head. Her gooey ponytail flounced when she shook her head, the fluorescent lighting above captured in the crown of loose curls she chose to sculpt her hair into today. The turquoise that her tiara was known for winked as it turned in her delicate hands.

"Such a silly thing," she muttered. Jake frowned, unsure if he should respond to that. _I don't even know what she means by that. _The tiara was suddenly in front of his face. "Could you put this on the counter? Your back-left?"

Jake quirked a brow. "PB?"

She shrugged. "It's an item. My people know who I am, Jake. Plus I'm not going out today. The castle. Out of the castle, I mean."

"Makes sense." Jake grabbed the tiara - it was warm to the touch, like a blanket freshly pulled from the dryer. _It feels like actual gold. _He stretched his arm out to the counter behind him and set it down before he could decide if he should run off with it. When he turned back, a little smile played across Bubblegum's thin lips.

"Hey, you feel like snitching some tarts from the kitchens?" she asked him.

A devilish grin threatened to split his face in half. "Oh, you know it!"

"Then could you help me up?" she asked sheepishly, holding out both hands. "I'm still a little...tender..."

Jake bit down on the inside of his lip, and any comments that came to mind, as he locked fingers with Bubblegum and slowly pulled her up. Her face winced and cringed all the way through, but the strong princess made not a sound. _Tough as iron, _he thought. Before exiting the lab, Peebles donned herself a purple turtleneck that Jake hadn't noticed was lumped up on a chair beside the door. It covered her hurts well, and brought out the lilac of her eyes quite strikingly.

_Peps and I are the only ones who know, _he realized as the two strolled down the corridor, ambling by the ever-cheerful castle staff that was going about their duties. Even though PB walked with quite a noticeable stiffness, one that Jake would find humorous if he did not know the reason why, not a soul in the choir of "G'morning, Princess!" stopped to inquire.

When they rounded a corner, the hall before them was completely empty. Jake had the chance to ask PB a question that was egging him since they left the lab. "Hey Princess, how many of your peeps know about Finn?" He purposely left out mention of the Fire Kingdom, for fear that PB would explode again.

"Well there's you, me, Peps and Marcy - Doctor Ice Cream, Banana Guard numbers fifteen to thirty-five (since they accompanied us on the raid of Moonlight Keep), and the two that carried Finn's litter. Oh! And Rattleballs, probably; nothing slips by him in this kingdom. But they're all sworn to silence, don't worry."

"I'm not," he said with a wave. "But man, PB. You're really good at keeping secrets around here." He meant for that as a compliment (at least in his own bizarre mind it was), but after saying it Jake feared that it would come off as rude.

Luckily the princess did not seem to care. "I've had a lot of practice," she said coolly. Jake snickered, practically forgetting about the princess's hurts lying underneath her sweater.

The double-doors to the kitchen were slightly ajar. From within a harmony of cooking music came - the clashing of pots, boiling of water, dishwashers rumbling and over it all a constant chatter concerning the day's evening meal. Of all the thirty-something chefs and cooks bustling about the kitchen, carrying sharp knives or boxes of meats, none paid Jake and Peebles any mind when they entered.

Chet was barking orders left and right, wearing his Head Chef's hat that was twice his height and looked ridiculous. "Burn that salad again, Fruit Bar, and I'm breaking out the wooden spoon!" he said as Jake swept past.

The two of them were giggling like children, looking back every so often to make sure that Chet hadn't noticed their presence. They approached the rolling cart stacked with five trays of little strawberry tarts. PB laughed as she scooped a couple into the ampleness of her sweater. "Come on, he's gonna see us!" Jake whispered excitedly.

"Hey you!" They turned - Chet was running towards them. "Get away from there!"

"Threatening your princess, Chet?" Peebles cheered all in good fun as she broke into a sprint and juked around him. Jake had shrunken down and hitched a ride on her shoulder. "I could have you exiled for that!" she sang.

"Those are, like, for freaking dessert, Bubblegum!"

PB shouldered through the door, the jerk of which made Jake cling for his life to her sweater so he wouldn't fly off. Chet's screams of protest became weaker and weaker with every corner the princess rounded, and put more distance between her and the kitchens.

Bubblegum finally stopped in a different sort of corridor - one that ended in a simple window overlooking the Candy Floss Forest. As she slumped against the wall, panting, catching her breath with one hand over her heart and the other keeping the tarts from falling, Jake returned to his normal shape and gaped wide-eyed at the paintings hanging from the wall.

As if she sensed his awe PB responded between breaths, "Yep...the Hall, hoo, of Heirs." She pronounced 'heirs' as 'hairs', for some reason.

Jake could see why, but at the same time understanding little. There were four portraits, each at least twenty feet high, nearly reaching the ceiling: one was of the princess herself, garbed in her usual pink dress with the poofy sleeves and long bubblegum hair brushing against the floor. The next was the Earl of Lemongrab, hand on the hilt of his sound-sword and mouth stretched into a thin line. Goliad was next to him, with that weird third eyeball looking right at Jake. She stood perched on a hill like some gaudy gargoyle, surrounded by fluffy little daffodils. The fourth portrait was of a green-skinned girl with a robot arm. Jake had never seen her before.

He turned to the sound of Peebles letting out a long sigh. She had seated herself, the tarts laid across her lap. She looked at Jake and broke into a fit of giggles. "That was, like, the most childish thing ever," she said. Then she glanced down, apparently at the space between her legs and grinned sheepishly, the same that she gave Jake when asking to be helped up. "That also really hurt, running like that."

Jake laughed as he took a seat next to her and helped himself to a tart. He bit into it - the creme coated his muzzle instantly, but as he lapped it off in between chews it made a thick and sweet contrast to the tarty tang of the berries. "Holy Glob," he said with a full mouth, "Chet knows how to make a tart."

PB chewed her's thoughtfully and "m-hm"ed in agreement, then wiped the creme off her lips with her sleeve. It made for a most un-princessly sight. "Thanks for coming down Jake," she said after polishing off a second tart. "It's easy to forget that you need a break sometimes from the craziness around you. You know, usually it's Finn who makes me feel...free, and...content..."

Jake turned, troubled by her trailing off. She was looking at her third tart, a single bite taken, like the creme was suddenly poison. "Thanks for coming," she repeated, voice suddenly sapped of all her previous energy. "Sorry Jake, but there's business I must attend to."

Jake knew what that meant, even though she didn't say it. _Well so much for feeling free and content. _He saw the princess try to stand; he sprang to his feet. "Here, let me help you." She accepted it, and in turn Jake accepted the two remaining tarts and her half-eaten one without a second thought.

"This was fun," Peebles said as they strolled down the hall. "Thanks again for coming, Jake. I hope you have a safe journey home." She slipped into a staircase on the left, leaving Jake alone with a mouthful of tarts and a weird feeling in his guts.

As Jake made his way across the castle courtyard, out under the kingdom's great portcullis with the Gumball Guardians idly blowing bubbles into the air, he just realized that Princess Bubblegum didn't even give him a mission. _If there was even one to begin with. _Jake turned, shading his eyes so he may look upon the Candy Castle in total clarity - it's eighty-foot sugar walls, encircling a massive tree that had centuries on him, and more to follow long after he's dead and buried. _Even brainiacs like Princess Bubblegum need a little venting. And even then it's not always the kind with the screaming and the crying._

Jake didn't mind he was used - that's nothing new with PB, after all. In his own weird way, Jake was just elated that he finally did something right, even if it only lasted a few minutes. The entire journey home devoted every one of his thoughts to what transpired, lingering for a good chunk of it on Bubblegum's words:

_Eighteen or a thousand, until the end of her days Marceline will have the mindset of a teenager. As will I._

At the Tree House threshold, Jake looked about the sky that seemingly domed around the rolling Grass Lands. The sky was like a painting of purple and burnt-orange, dusted with a million silver stars. And for a split second he thought about Marceline, and Bubblegum and Finn and even his own Jake Jr.

"Fighting monsters is easy," he said warily, hand squeezing the doorknob, "but teenagers are hard."

* * *

**Marceline**

The sky was a gloom of cloud, choking the land in a veil of fog, and the roots of gnarled oaks twisted from the ground, frozen and dead beneath her feet. They groped at her ankles as she ran past, and long thin branches lashed her face, marking it with faint lines of black blood. She crashed through the Evil Dark Forest, akin to a bat out of Hell: heedless, breathless, and scared out of her mind.

_I'm sorry, _she sobbed. A mangled, inhuman howl screamed in reply. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _

Marceline dared herself a quick glance over her shoulder. She saw them coming, their silhouettes in the fog leaping around the trees almost playfully, like this was some kind of game. _I'm sorry._

She could feel their icy auras prickle her spine. They were getting closer, great grave worms the size of snowa constrictors with the heads of Bonnie and Finn. Their jaws split down the middle, razor teeth filled to the blackness of their throats.

_I'm sorry. _Marceline tried to run faster, but the ball-and-chains latched around her ankles would not allow it. She could feel them now, breathing down her neck, mouths opened wide and black spit drooling from their throats. The fog ahead became thicker, more enclosed. Marceline gasped, her throat beginning to tighten. _Mercy! I'm sorry! _she tried to scream, but only a moan and a sob emerged, and then she felt their teeth graze her arm and she whirled...

...flailing a large stone clutched in her hand at thin air. The fireflies lingering above scattered, a cloud of flickering lights against the pitch black sky.

"Just a dream."_ I'm sorry. _When she realized this, Marceline hissed and angrily sent the rock hurling down the grassy hill. "This sucks," she muttered. Without a second longer Marceline curled back into a ball, wrapping herself in her leather jacket and drifted off back to sleep with only the song of crickets to abide by.

Later that night Marceline dreamed of a grand feast held in the Royal Congressional Hall in the Desert of Doom. Most everyone she had ever known was crammed into the long tables, with her closest friends seated in places of honor beside her - Bonnie laughed, looking as beautiful as ever in pink satin, Finn, whole and happy, Jake and his family and even Simon, talking like he still had all his marbles but still looking like the Ice King. Beside him sat a woman Marceline wouldn't be ashamed to admit was drop-dead gorgeous, with coppery-red hair that fell to her waist like silk and a shy little smile to go with it. _Betty, _she recalled with a start. The hall rang with music and laughter, and flooded with smells of cooked meat and fine wine.

At first that's all it was - just food and jokes. Marceline herself was laughing it up with Jake and lewdly eyeing the serving girls and catering boys, hardly a care in the world and having herself a grand old time...until she noticed that the Royal Congressional Hall grow darker. Only a few sconces behind her were still lit, leaving the opposite end of the room blacker than shadow. She felt her hairs stand on end, and pale skin dot with goosebumps. The band up in the rafters turned grim, not at all playing as jovially as they did seconds ago; she heard sour notes - slow plucks of strings and hollow beats on a drum, and silences bled in the air several spans at a time.

Suddenly the red wine in Marceline's goblet tasted grainy and bitter in her mouth, and she spat it back in and found it has been turned to dirt. Its acrid tang lingered on her tongue. When she looked up from her goblet, she saw that she was feasting with the dead.

Down the table Finn sat with his body eviscerated, blood dripping from the nubs of his fingers and pooling around his toe stumps. His hat was cast aside, traded for one of thin pale-gold hair, and his hollow cheeks did not have a bite of the food in front of him, despite looking like he hadn't eaten in days. Flame Princess was headless beside him, pouring wine down her open neck-hole. Grey-green candy flesh sloughed off Bonnie's bones as she rose her arm to toast Marceline for everything she's done. The fletching of an arrow sprung from deep within her shoulder blade. Jake joined in the toast, skinless body soaking his entire chair red. Lady Rainicorn wrapped a foreleg around his shoulder, its multicolored palate turning only one color in an instant.

"Jake, sweetie, your skin is gone," she said in English. Each of their five kids nodded in agreement, little grave worms with Finn and Bonnie's faces crawling in and out of the fleshy red holes that were once their eyes.

Marceline looked down below, at the long tables seating all of the guests. They too joined in Bonnie's toast, raising goblets and praising the Vampire Queen for returning Ooo's champion safe and sound. Rotten flesh slid from their bones and plopped to the floor, and grave worms crawled in and out of every orifice on their persons, natural or otherwise. She knew them, every single one; Billy and a bearded little creature who could only be Old Man Prismo, though one had half of his face blown off and the other exhaled a sickly green smoke when he breathed. Clarence vomited a constant stream of cheese whiz as his doomed lover Warrior Princess took a drag of wine with a knife lodged in her belly. That girl, Shoko, had turned into a giant grotesque whose sudden change in size crushed the entire table she was sitting at and all its guests.

Marceline knew some of the people down there, ones that still lived. Tree Trunks and Mister Pig sat together, one was caked in blood around the hindquarters region while the other dripped water. Mr Cupcake saw with his frosting crown spattered across the wall behind him. Chet was beside him, burnt to a crisp as he helped himself to a gumball from a vending machine in the center of the table. A bruised and beaten Chocoberry was there, dressed in her maid outfit with a troop of her fellow Gumdrop Lasses wearing similar attire, and silent Taffy Girl crouched down beside them, green eyes shimmering and every piece of taffy torn from her person. Ash and the Scream Queens and her old ghost friends took up most of the end of a table, raising a toast. Even her own father was present among them, who rose a special goblet, eyes smiling and yellow in the darkness.

"I'm proud of you, Marcy!" he said, raising his goblet fashioned from the skull of a demon and drinking blood from where its brain once was.

There were more, much more; people Marceline never met in life, but had seen in pictures. The little orange dog who wore grey fedora spattered in blood could only be Joshua, Jake's father. His wife Margaret stood beside him, and their second son Jermaine just behind.

And then on the other side the doors burst open with a crash, filling the Royal Congressional Hall with pale moonlight and a freezing draft into the feast that snuffed out the sconces behind Marceline. The large yellow mass dragged itself into the hall, screaming and slavering at the lips and frothing in the eyes. "Which one iiiiis _IIIIITTTTTT!?" _he screamed.

Marceline mistook him for the Fat Earl of Lemongrab until she saw his face, the red stitching crossing between his eyes, and the sandy-yellow of one half of his face and the piss-yellow of the other. "WHERE!?" he roared. His fat hand lashed out with such quickness that Marceline was given a start. It plucked Lumpy Space Princess from her seat and the earl swallowed her whole.

"WHERE?!" he screamed again, moving down the row and devouring Raggedy Princess. "I know which one! I _KNOOOOW_!" He grabbed Breakfast Princess and ate her too.

Then the thin lines he had for pupils swiveled towards Marceline. A chill went through her. "ALLLLL YOOOUUUUUR FAUUUUULT!" he screamed, pointing at her with a chubby stitched finger. King Worm and Ricardio the Heart Guy came stalking in beside him, eyes burning and bodies bleeding from a thousand savage wounds.

_"Wowowowowowowowowow," _droned the king.

Marceline woke in a flurry of screams, a constant storm of howls and shrieks that lasted seconds. Then she screamed more when she felt the sun beating down on her, noticing her pale skin blistering and broiling under the rising light of dawn. She skittered into the loving shade of a nearby white oak that shared the hillock and sighed in relief. By the time the sweat coating her body dried, Marceline's breathing had steadied at last, and she was feeling ashamed of her panic.

"Only a dream," she muttered, hugging her knees. "That's all it was. It didn't mean anything." Tree Trunks and Mister Pig are alive, the Third Earl of Lemongrab is thin and supposedly happy in his earldom, all of her friends are more or less okay.

_Are they?_

She hurt her. Last night, she hurt her. Her best friend...she let her into a bed she had no right in entering. In her own kingdom, in her own castle, on her own royal person, she just viciously fucked her with all the fury a vampire queen could encompass.

Marceline didn't even remember what she did. After climbing on top of her, the friend whose mind was just as much a mess as hers, the whole world just went on mute. The only sound in Marceline's ear was the _CRACK! _of Susan's skull, the Marauder's laugh, Finn screaming through his broken mouth. And Jake:

_This is all your fault, you FREAK!_

By the time Marceline had finished, Bonnie was sobbing, her hands moving up to rub the welts and bruises covering her shoulders and the bite marks that etched her small firm breasts. In the shake of a rabbit's tail, Marceline had donned her clothes and took off outside the window as fast as her natural powers possibly could, but not before throwing a blanket to cover her friend's pain.

_And that was all I did. I didn't stay to help. __I'm not her friend. She hates me now, forever._

Part of Marceline wanted to go back to the kingdom to apologize, but her shame prevented her from acting so. For a while, unsure of how much time has passed, Marceling considered just packing up and moving somewhere else in Ooo, like she always did whenever Simon managed to track her down. _But then I'd never live with myself, _she thought, knuckling her forehead. _I've become such a sour-puss. I won't get anywhere by running away from the problem, and I can't just ignore it altogether. _

"This is so hard," she groaned. "I need some down time, away from Finn and Jake and Bonnie and all this other crazy stuff that's been going on. I just need to clear my head, get out of everybody's way. But where's a girl to go?" She looked ahead and saw the snowcapped peaks of Ice Kingdom. She thought of Simon, and her heart warmed a little. "It's as good a place as any."

* * *

**Bonnibel**

Finn sat at the table, his face blanker than a sheet of white paper. Bonnie found herself wondering what he was thinking as she took her seat across from him. "How are you feeling, Finn?" she asked.

The boy stared at her, up and down. "Well, Your Grace," he replied.

She tenderly slid her hand across, but was only able to graze the fingertips of Finn's four digits before he wrenched them away. The princess frowned. "Please Finn," she said, "we want to help you. But to do that, you have to start trusting us."

His pale tongue slid between his lips, moistening them. "I think...I know what you're trying to do, Your Grace."

Bonnibel tilted her head. She hadn't expected that. "Oh?"

Finn nodded stiffly, his thin gold hair flouncing with the motion. "You want me to go back to being that...other boy."

_He still calls himself 'Funn'. _She resisted the urge to shudder. "Of course," she said. "We all care about you Finn. Everything that I've done has been purely for your benefit."

She awaited for a response. It took a while for her to get one, and when Finn spoke, it cut like a dagger. "But why?"

_What do you mean 'why', ya ding-dong? _she wanted to say. Bonnibel exhaled, steadying her temper. "Because your my hero, Finn. You're Ooo's champion and most of all, you're one of my closest friends." She meant that with all the sincerity in her heart, and yet Finn didn't seem to be buying it.

"I see," he said slowly. "You want me to become your errand boy again."

"What? Finn, no that's not what I - "

"You want me to become the other boy again," he cut in sharply, "so that I can be your errand boy. Don't lie, Your Grace. I'm not a stupid kid anymore. Well we all know there's no use stopping you. So you'll go back to ordering me around...and I'll go on wishing you never found me in that dungeon." Tears shone in his eyes.

Bonnibel awoke with a tiny shriek, her face coated in a sheen of sweat. "Another stupid dream," she grumbled, angrily wiping her brow.

The most relieving part of knowing it was just a dream was realizing that Finn hadn't actually said any of those things back there. _At least not yet. _She shook such negative thoughts from her head. Nothing was hopeless, not when she had her science on her side. _I'll do my duty, like always, _she thought, gazing into the dark ceiling of her bedroom.

From the day she was born from a pile of radioactive bubblegum, duty was Bonnibel's entire life. _I read those science books and built my little kingdom, and I created life and became its Glob. I took a chance at keeping the Lich in sap, and never once came to visit Lemongrab, nor bid him so much as a farewell when I sent him off for being too volatile, because it was my duty as a princess. And when I finally made a friend she died because I allowed her to get too close, so I made sure to never make that same mistake again, only I did, a hundred more times with Finn and Marceline and Jake and Lady. I sacrificed one of my people so that those same people may live, because it was my duty as a friend. I gave my son and heir everything he could ever want - a brother, a people, power and a second chance - because it was my duty as a mother. _

And her duty as a friend and a princess demanded Bonnibel to stomp right down to the dungeon and slay the Master. _But that could start a war. That would make me as bad, if not worse, than him. And above all, revenge wouldn't do anything to help Finn's mental sickness. I would know..._

Bonnie's thoughts drifted, back to a time centuries ago when she was still ignorant of the world around her, and she befriended a sad little girl and her tiger who ended up dying because she would have anyway if she didn't steal Bubblegum's pendant.

_Fingers closed around his fleshy throat, seeping into the folds of his fat until they vanished completely. "I'll give you one thing you never gave her..." she pressed a tiny dagger against the Bath Boy's Adam's apple, "...a choice." The fat man's chins quivered with fear. Beads of pink sweat rolled down his smudging facial mask._

"I would know..."

Every once in a while Bonnie would let her personal feelings come before rationality and duty. She remembered the time she arrested that slaving fraud "King of Ooo" at Tree Trunks's wedding, and those short-sighted fools she called her friends refused to see the big picture and had the gall to name her a tyrant. And thus she inflicted her wrath upon them without a second thought, though it lasted for only a short period of time.

Then there was the fiasco when she regressed into a thirteen year old girl, and pranced about the kingdom much like she did earlier today with Jake. _That was selfish of me. I shouldn't have been running around my castle like I was thirteen again, snitching tarts and tossing my crown aside like it was a piece of trash. _Simply looking at it on her nightstand filled PB with a unease. She leaned over and swiftly snatched up the tiara and settled it upon her brow. "I shouldn't have listened to Peps. I don't need a break - everything I'm doing is for Finn. That's all that matters. I don't have the time to be shirking my duties."

With that, she felt a tiny bit of guilt eating at her stomach. "I should go apologize," she said to herself. Bonnie swung her legs over the bedside, sitting for a moment with her fingers clutching the blanket before she stood. Bonnie was relieved that her gummy flesh healed so quickly, and left hardly any trace of the night before on her person. Though there was still a stiff soreness between her legs that would last at least until tomorrow.

Bonnibel strode to her door, lingering for only a second to pluck a fluffy violet bathrobe off the doorknob and covering her nightgown-clad person against the chill of the castle's nighttime air. She didn't even bother brushing her ruffled bed-hair, not that it really mattered - she fancied to think of it as cotton candy. A short stroll later and she found the kitchen doors, slightly ajar with a white light beaming from within and lighting up the darkness of the hall. Bonnibel peaked her head inside and found the little bonbon standing at a table, back facing her.

"Chet?" the princess began softly. She didn't know why - it's not like there were any bedrooms for another couple hallways down.

The Master Chef turned, surprised to see his princess up so late. "PB?" Tiredness sagged beneath his eyes.

Bonnie strode in, hands rubbing together like she was washing them. "Chet, I didn't get the chance at dinnertime, but I wanted to apologize for Jake and I's unacceptable behavior from before."

"Aw, forget about that, Peebes," he said with a wave of his hand. It glistened with dough-slime. "I know it was all in good fun. Besides, we still had more tarts than we could eat after dinner." Chet always was a down-to-earth guy. That's what Bonnibel liked about him.

"It was still pretty childish of me," she said.

"And when are _we_ not?" His tone sounded quite serious, yet his smile let the world know it was in good humor. "You should really loosen up more often, PB. Sometimes we forget that you're even alive, you spend so much time up in that lab."

Bonnie shrugged, hugging her bathrobe close to her body and stepping beside him. "I have important work to do," she whispered dramatically. "_Science work_."

Usually her goofy 'spooky' manner of talk would get a giggle out of any Candy Person, but Chet didn't seem all too convinced. "You've been working in your lab non-stop for the past few days. You should take a breather, relax a bit. Or at least, like, get some sleep. It's the middle of the night."

Of course it was, but Bonnie didn't mind. "You're up," she said, teasingly.

"I have to be, though." Chet resumed kneading dough for biscuits.

Even in the dead of night, the kitchens were restless; there was always someone up getting a head start on prepping the castle staff's breakfast, whether it was mixing a huge vat of batter for pancakes, dipping pounds of bacon into fryers big enough to flash-fry an entire cow, or dicing cantaloupe and pineapple for the fruit salad. Tonight it was Chet's turn, though as the Master Chef he never seemed to mind being alone, free to work on his passion without craziness or interruption.

"Do you mind if I just watch for a bit?" she asked, playfully adding, "I promise I won't get in your way."

Chet blushed a little and said, "Yeah, okay whatever."

Bonnie smiled. This to her was relaxing: just spending time with her subjects, showing an interest in their hobbies and careers and making them happy. _It's what I live for, _she always thought. _I don't know what I'd do without this. _

Minutes later, as she helped Chet carry a huge tray of biscuits into the oven for baking, Peppermint Butler burst into the kitchen, breathless and in his pajamas. "Princess, where _were you_?" he cried.

Bonnie was taken aback by the urgency of his tone. "I was helping Chet make breakfast," she said, her voice stuttering a bit. _This CAN'T be good. _

Peps ran towards her, carrying a note in his little red hand. "I got a letter from Jake, sent by a carrier pigeon! It says that..." He cast a haunted look to Chet. "It says that you-know-who was missing from the Tree Fort when he got home, and he's going out to look for him!"

This can't be happening. Bonnibel wanted to scream. "Is that _all_?" she asked slowly. Peps trembled; he knew what was coming when Bonnie used that tone. Chet however wasn't as aware. But whatever he was saying, his tugging at her bathrobe, it all went completely unnoticed.

"There's m-more," said her butler. "It says...it says that the windowsill of their bedroom was...charred. Charred black by...by fire." Peppermint Butler must have seen the look on his princess's face. "Chet," he hissed. "Chet, get her some water. And a stool. Quickly you fool!"

Dismay drove every other thought from Bonnibel's mind. She could feel her personal feelings becoming a forefront in her mind, above her duties, but that couldn't be helped. Not this time. When Chet returned with a glass of ice water, still shooting off question after question, Bonnibel took one sip before flinging the cup away to explode against the wall. Chet and Peps raised their hands to protect themselves from the glass shards; water ran down the yellow walls in long dark fingers.

_"DAMN HER!" _Bonnibel screamed.

* * *

**9,000 words. I hope you enjoyed.**

**"Fighting monsters is easy, but teenagers are hard." I think that's my favorite quote I've written so far. Ever realized how Jake is pretty much the only adult in the main cast of Adventure Time, excluding Ice King?**

**Next Time: it's a dungeon crawl! ...Nothing can go wrong, right? **

**Right?**

**Anyway, I'm following the PG-13 rules in regards to the use of 'Fuck' back there: if you say it once, you're good. You can still be PG-13. **

**In other news, the Royal Tart Toter. Yes, he is significant. And poor Jake. He just makes everything inadvertently worse but he can't help it. The bit with Chet was something I've wanted to actually do for a while. Ever since his 'grill-meister' thing in 'The Real You', I saw him as being the castle cook. And in my head I assigned jobs to many of the candy folk, such as Chocoberry being the head mistress of the castle maids, Taffy Girl as the Jelly Horse stablegirl, Manfreid as the herald and so on. **


End file.
